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POPULAR EOMAUOES 

OP THE 

MIDDLE AGES. 


c- 








POPULAR ROMANCES 


OF THE 

MIDDLE AGES 


SIE GEOEGE ^Y 30X, M.A., Bart. 

\\ 

AuTHOE OF “ A Manual of Mtihology,” etc. 

AND 

EUSTACE HINTON JONES 


FIEST AMERICAN, FROM THE SECOND 
ENGLISH EDITION ' 



NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
1882 


PN (e'iS 

, G 




486555 
JUL 2 0 1942 


PREFACE 


This volume, it is believed, contains all the most important tales 
which formed the great body of mediaeval legend or folk lore. 
For many centuries these tales had for our forefathers an irre¬ 
sistible charm: but not a few of them are known to Englishmen 
of the present day little more than in name. But for all who 
read them they must possess their old interest; and even over 
those who are unacquainted with the time-honoured romances, 
the heroes whose names they bear exercise in some faint measure 
the power of old associations. The wisdom of Merlin, the bravery 
of Bors and G-uy, have almost passed into proverbs; and to not 
a few, probably, the name of Olger will bring up the image of 
the mighty Dane wrapped in the charmed slumber in which he 
lifts his mace once only in seven years.. But a more potent spell 
is linked with the thought of Boland the brave and true, the 
peerless Paladin who fell on Boncesvalles. 

The tales contained in this volume are partly found in books 
not easily accessible, or have assumed forms which tend to make 
them monotonous or wearisome; and in the Arthur story, as 
related especially by Sir Thomas Malory, the evil becomes well- 
nigh intolerable. Hence the thought that these old romances 
may be presented to modern readers in a form which shall retain 
their real vigour without the repulsive characteristics imposed 
on them by a comparatively rude and ignorant age, may not. 



vi 


Preface. 

perhaps, be regarded as inexcusably presumptuous. With greater 
confidence it may be said that, if we turn to these old legends or 
romances at all, it should be for the purpose of learning what 
they really were, and not with any wish of seeing them through 
a glass which shall reflect chiefly our own thoughts about them, 
and throw over them a colouring borrowed from the sentiment 
of the nineteenth century. 

These two conditions have, it is hoped, been strictly observed 
in the versions here given of these romances. While special care 
has been taken to guard against the introduction even of phrases 
not in harmony with the original narratives, not less pains have 
been bestowed on the task of preserving all that is essential in 
the narrative; and thus it may perhaps be safely said that the 
readers of this volume will obtain from it some adequate know¬ 
ledge of the tales without having their attention and their patience 
overtaxed by a multiplicity of superfluous and therefore irksome 
details. Of the present version of the Arthur story, the most 
celebrated perhaps of all, it may be enough to say that it relates 
many important episodes which have been omitted in the versions 
recently published, while no attempt has been made to impart 
to the romance a more historical complexion than that which it 
received at the hands of Caxton’s friend. G. W. C. 


CONTENTS. 


KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS— 

I.—The Crowning of Arthur . • J , 1 

IL—The Story of Balin and Balan . . , , 7 

III. —The Wedding of Arthur and Guenevere • , 12 

IV. —The Treason of Morgan le Fay . . , , 15 

V.—The Crowning of Arthur at Rome . , , 23 

VI.—The Exploits of Sir Lancelot du Lake ... 25 

VII.—The Story of Sir Gareth of Orkney ... 28 

VIII.—The History of Sir Tristram . , , . 41 

IX.—The Madness of Sir Tristram . . , , 49 

X.—The Treasons of King Mark and Palamides , • 54 

XI. —The Birth of the Good Knight Galahad . , 63 

XII. —The Finding of Lancelot .... 67 

XIII. —The Shriving of Sir Lancelot .... 70 

XIV. —The Temptation of Sir Percivale . . . 76 

XV.—The Vision of Sir Lancelot . . . ,79 

XVI.—The Trial of Sir Bors . . . , .81 

XVII.—The Achieving of the Sangreal . . ' • ,85 

XVIII.—The Story of the Maid of Astolat , , , 91 

XIX.—The Judgment of Queen Guenevere ... 97 

XX.—The Siege of Joyous Gard .... 101 

XXI.—The Last Days of Arthur, Guenevere, and Lancelot . 109 

MERLIN.115 

SIR TRISTREM.123 

BEVIS OF HAMTOUN.140 

GUY OF WARWICK.162 

HAVELOK. .179 

BEOWULF 189 

ROLAND.202 

OLGER THE DANE 


223 








Vlll 


Contents. 


PlGB 


THE STORIES OF THE VOLSUNGS— 

I.—The Story of Sigfnund and Signy 
II.—The Story of Helgi Hundingsbane 

III. —The Story of Sigurd and Brynhild 

IV. —The Fall of the Giukinga , . 

THE NIBELUNG STORY— 

I.—The Wedding of the Queens ^ 
II.—The Crosslet on the Vesture , 
III.—The Vengeance of Kriemhild • 


240 

248 

250 

268 


277 

288 

300 


WALTER OF AQUITAINE— 

I.—The Betrothal of Walter and Hildegund • • 316 

II.—The Battle for the Golden Hoard . • . 320 

III.—The Wedding of Walter and Hildegund in the Basqueland 331 


THE STORY OF HUGDIETRICH AND HILDEBURG . 333 


THE GUDRUN LAY— 

I.—Hagen and the Griffins . 

II.—Hilda’s Wooing . , 

III.—Gudrun’s Lovers , • 


. 341 

. 346 

. 351 


THE STORY OF FRITHJOF AND INGEBJORG 


GRETTIR THE STRONG— 

I.—The Winning of the Short Sword 

II.—The Slaying of Biom 

III. —The Curse of Glam , 

IV. —Grettir’s Ill Luck . 

V.—The Hunting of the Outlaw 

VI.—The Ladders upon Drangey 

VII.—The Notch in the Short Sword 

VIII.—The Happy Good Luck of Thorstein 


GUNNLAUG AND THE FAIR HELGA . 


BURNT NJAL— 

I.—The Story of Gunnar, Njal’s Friehd 
II.—The Burning of Njal • • 


. 372 


; 400 

. 407 

. 411 

. 416 

. 423 

. 439 

. 448 

. 452 

. 458 


; 475 

S 486 





POPULAE EOIANCES OP THE MIDDLE AGES. 


‘(iihe gtorg of ^ing Arthur anb his finightai. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE CROWNING OF ARTHUR. 

Uther Pendragon lay sick with love and sorrow, for the lady 
Igerne would not hearken to the words which he had spoken to 
her, and she had gone away with her husband Gorlois, the Duke 
of Cornwall, who placed her in the castle of Tintagil, in the 
Cornish land, while he shut himself up in another castle called 
Dimilioc. When the knight Ulfin saw that his lord Uther was 
sick, he asked what ailed him ; and when he knew that the king 
longed for the love of Igerne, he went to the wise Merlin who knew 
the things that were to come; and Merlin promised that the king 
should have his heart’s desire. So he brought it about that Uther 
went to the castle of Tintagil in the likeness of Gorlois, who had 
just been slain behind the battlements of Dimilioc; and Igerne 
welcomed Uther, thinking that in very truth her husband stood 
before her. 

On the next day the tidings came to Igerne that her husband 
had been slain three hours before Uther entered the gates of 
Dimilioc; and she marvelled who it might be that had come 
to her in the guise of her lord. But soon there came messengers 
from Uther who told her of the love which the king bare to her, 
and Igerne became the queen of the land. 

When the time drew near that her child should be born, 
Merlin the sage came to the king and asked that the babe should 
be given to him at the postern gate of the palace unchristened. 

A 



2 


Popular Romances of tht Middle Ages. 

And the king promised, and so when the child was born, it was 
wrapped in cloth of gold and given to Merlin, who placed it in 
the hands of a true and faithful man named Sir Ector: and Sir 
Ector’s wife nourished the babe, until after a great fight at St 
Albans Uther Pendragon came back to London, and there fell sick 
unto death. But before he died, he charged his nobles and great 
men that they should make Arthur king in his stead. Howbeit, 
when he was dead, many strove to be chosen king, and the Bishop 
of Canterbury bade that all the lords of the realm should come 
up to London at Christmas on pain of cursing. So at Christmas- 
tide, they were gathered together in the great church ; and when 
the mass was done, there was seen in the churchyard against the 
high altar a great stone four square, and in the midst was like 
an anvil of steel, and therein was stuck a fair sword, naked, 
by the point, and about the sword there were written letters 
in gold which said, ‘ Whoso pulleth this sword out of this stone 
and anvil is right wise born King of all England.’ 

But of all the lords there was not one who could move the 
sword; and the Bishop said, ‘ He is not here that shall draw 
out the sword, but doubt not God will make him known.’ Then 
by his counsel ten knights were named to guard the stone ; but 
though they kept watch day by day, none came who could pull 
out the weapon. At the last Sir Ector journeyed to London 
with his son Sir Kay, and with them went Arthur his foster- 
brother. As they went on their road. Sir Kay perceived 
that he had left his sword at home, and prayed Arthur to hasten 
back and fetch it. But when Arthur reached the house, 
there was none within, for all were gone to see the jousting. 
Then in his wrath he said within himself, ‘ I will ride to the 
churchyard and take the sword that is fixed in the stone, for my 
brother shall not lack a sword this day.’ So Arthur hastened to 
the churchyard, and found no knights there, for they too were 
gone to the jousts ; and when he seized the sword, it came out 
of the stone lightly at his touch, and he carried it to Sir Kay, 
■who took it to his father and said, ‘ Here is the sword of the 
stone, and I must be king of the land.’ But his father took him 
into the church and made him say before the altar how he came 
by the sword ; and so it was made known that Arthur had drawn 
it forth. Then said Ector, ‘ Arthur must be king of the land,-if 
he can place the sword back again where it was and once more 
draw it forth.’ So Arthur placed the sword again in the stone, 
and when Ector strove to pull it out, he could not do so, neither 
could Sir Kay ; but whenever Arthur touched it, it came forth 


3 


ArtJmr and his Knights, 

Bghtly ds a feather. Then knelt Sir Ector before his foster child, 
and said, ‘Kow know I thou art of an higher blood than I had 
thought; and therefore it was that Merlin brought thee to me.^ 
But Arthur was grieved when he learnt that Sir Ector was not 
indeed his father nor Ector’s wife his mother. 

Yet for all this the lords strove that Arthur should not be king, 
for they held it shame to be governed by a boy of no high blood 
born ; and thus, though all failed to pull out the sword, yet from 
Twelfth-day to Candlemas, from Candlemas till the high feast of 
Easter, and from Easter till Pentecost, they put off the crowning 
of Arthur; but at Pentecost, when still Arthur alone was able 
to draw forth the sword, the people cried out all, ‘ We will have 
Arthur for our king. It is the will of God.’ So was Arthur 
crowned, and he sware to keep the laws and deal true justice 
between man and man, and he redressed all the wrongs that had 
been done throughout the land since the days of King Uther. 
Then Arthur made his foster-brother seneschal of England, and 
Sir Baldwin M^as made constable, and Sir Ulfin chamberlain : and 
the people loved their king, and evil-doers feared him because of 
his might and his righteousness. 

Not long after this, Arthur held high feast at Caerleon,^ and 
thither hastened chieftains from Lothian and Orkney, from Gower 
and Carados, and to them Arthur sent precious gifts. But the 
kings evil-intreated the messengers who bare them, and bade 
them go back and cay that they would have no gifts of a beard¬ 
less boy that was come of low blood, but that they were coming 
to give him gifts of hard blows between the shoulders. Then 
Arthur shut himself up with five hundred knights in a great 
tower, to which the kings laid siege, though ^lerlin the sage 
warned them that they could not withstand the might of Arthur. 
But they laughed him to scorn, and said, ‘ Shall we be afraid of 
a dream-reader % ’ Then Merlin vanished from among them, 

^ Of the geography of the Arthur romance it may he said that the com¬ 
parative mythologist who has ascertained that the story with which he 
deals has its origin in the phenomena of cloudland will be disposed to spend 
little time on the profitless task of inquiring whether towns and hamlets bear¬ 
ing historical names have been rightly placed or not. All that Sir Henry 
Strachey can say on this subject is that “the geography of Arthur’s 
Roman war is very coherent ; but that of the rest of the book it is often 
impossible to harmonise.” (Morte d'Arthur, xi.) In all likelihood the 
episode of the Roman war was put together by some one familiar with the 
imperial tradition which English kings were pleased to maintain from the 
days of Ecgberht onwards—Freeman, Norman Conquest^ i. 158, et seq. j 
Kdinburgh £eview, July 1869, p. 188. 


i. Popular Romances of the Middle Ages- 

and came to Arthur and bade him set on fiercely, but not to use 
the sword which he had got by miracle, unless he should be sore 
pressed. So forthwith Arthur came down upon them and there 
was a fierce battle, until at last the Chief of Lothian smote down 
the king; and the king drew his sword, which flashed in the 
eyes of his enemies like the blaze of thirty torches, and at each 
stroke of the sword a man died, till the kings fled with the 
knights that were left alive, and Merl'n counselled Arthur to 
follow them no further, but to send messengers to King Ban of 
Berwick and King Bors of Gaid, promising that he would aid 
them in their wars against King Claudas if they would help him 
against the Kings of Lothian and Orkney and their friends. So 
King Ban and King Bors came; and the six kings who had fled away 
from Arthur got five other kings to join with them under an oath 
that they should not leave each other till they should have slain 
Arthur, who was now in the castle of Bedegraine in the forest of 
Sherwood. Thither hastened the eleven kings with their men, 
and there was fierce fighting in which King Ban and King Bors 
wrought mightily for the king, and Arthur himself smote on 
until of threescore thousand he had left but fifteen thousand alive, 
so that Merlin rebuked him and said, ‘ God is wroth with thee 
that thou wilt never have done, for yonder eleven kings cannot 
be overthrown now; but go now whither thou mayest list for 
they shall not lift hand against thee for three years.’ 

When Merlin was now gone to his master Blaise who dwelt in 
Northumberland, and wrote down all that befell King Arthur, 
there came the daughter of the Earl Sanam, to do homage, as 
others did after the great battle : and Arthur set his love upon 
the damsel, and she became the mother of Borre, who was 
afterward a good knight of the Bound Table. Then Arthur rode 
to Caerleon, and thither came the wife of the King of Orkney 
with her four sons, Gawaine, Gaheris, Agravaine, and Gareth; 
and she was the sister of Arthur, though he knew it not, for she 
was the daughter of Igerne ; and she was so fair that the king 
cast great love upon her also. But withal there came heavy 
dreams which made him sad at heart, and when by and by ho 
rode long after a strange beast, and then rested by a fountain, 
a knight came and took away the king’s horse; and while one went 
to fetch it back, Merlin stood before the king, like a child four¬ 
teen years old, and told him that Uther and Igerne were his 
father and his mother. But Arthur laughed the child to scorn, 
and Merlin vanished, and came again in the form of a man four¬ 
score years old, and told him the same words. Further he said. 


Arthur and his Knights. 5 

* God is displeased with you for the deed ye have done of late, and 
thy sister’s child shall destroy you and all the knights of your 
realm.’ 

Then Arthur sent for Igerne, fo? he said, ‘ If she too says that 
I am her child, I shall believe it; ’ and when she came with 
her daughter Morgan le Fay, Ulfin charged her with treason, 
because she had not spoken the truth from the first, and because 
Arthur’s lords had withstood him, not knowing whose son he was, 
and because they would not be ruled by a base-born boy. Then 
Igeme told all the story, how, when the child was born, Uther 
bade that it should be given to Merlin, and how she never saw 
the babe again, or wot what had become of him; and Ector 
also told how he had received the child at Merlin’s hands, and 
nourished him by the king’s command. iThen Arthur took his 
mother in his arms and kissed her, and they wept on each other 
for the greatness of their joy. 

After this, there came from the Emperor of Rome twelve 
knights who asked of Arthur homage for his realm; and the 
king answered that because they were messengers they should 
live, and bade them tell their master that he would give him 
homage on a fair field with a sharp spear and a sharp sword. So 
the messengers departed; and as Arthur rode away he came to 
a place where a knight stood who suffered none to pass unless 
they first crossed spears with him. Then was there a long and 
fierce fight between them, until the knight smote Arthur’s sword 
in two pieces, and sware to slay him unless he would yield 
himself as conquered. ‘ Death is welcome,’ said Arthur, when if 
comes; but as for yielding to thee, I would rather die than be 
so shamed ; ’ and therewith rushing on the knight he seized him 
by the middle and threw him down, and took away his helmet. 
Yet was not the knight overcome, albeit he was sore dismayed ; 
and he had well nigh slain Arthur, when Merlin came and bade 
him stay his hand. ‘ This knight,’ he said, ‘ is a man of more 
worship than thou deemest.’ ‘Why, who is he?’ said the 
knight. When Merlin said that it was King Arthur, the knight 
would have slain him forthwith because he feared his anger ; but 
Merlin cast a spell upon him so that he fell to the earth in a 
great sleep. Then was Arthur wroth because he thought that 
Merlin had slain the brave knight; but the sage said, ‘ Fear not, 
he shall rise up again in three hours : and this knight, whose 
name is Pellinore, shall have two sons, Percivale and Lamorak, 
who shall be good men and true, and he shall tell you the name 
of your sister’s son, that shall bring ruin to all this realm.’ 


6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then with Merlin Arthur went to the abode of an hermit, 
who was also a great healer of men, and in three days he was 
liealed of the wounds which Pellinore had given. But when ho 
would go further, he said to Merlin, ‘I have no sword;’ and 
Merlin answered that he should have one by and by; and 
presently they came to a lake in the midst of which an arm was 
secii rising from the water, and bearing a sword aloft. ‘ Yonder,’ 
said Meuiii, ‘ is the sword of wliich I spake, and yonder is the 
Lady of the Lake, whose is that sword. Speak fair to her when 
she comes to you, that she may give it you.’, Then after kindly 
greeting, Arthur besought her for the sword, and the maiden said, 
‘ If thou wilt give me a gift when I ask for it, it shall be thine,’ 
So the king sware unto her, and the maiden bade him row him¬ 
self in a barge that lay near, and take the sword with its scab¬ 
bard ; and when Arthur laid his hand upon it, the hand that bare 
it up went under the water. On their way back they saw a rich 
pavilion, and when Arthur knew from Merlin that Pellinore lay 
within it, Arthur would have tried his new sword in fight with 
him ; but Merlin said that so it must not be, and that hereafter 
the king would be right glad to give to Pellinore his sister for a 
wife. ‘ But which likest thou the better,’ asked Merlin, ^ the 
sword or the scabbard?’ And Arthur said, ‘The sword.’ ‘Ye 
are unwise,’ answered the sage, ‘ for the scabbard is worth ten of 
the sword, for while ye have the scabbard upon you ye shall never 
lose blood, though thy wounds be never so sore; wherefore see 
that you keep the scabbard always with you.’ 

Then went Arthur to Caerleon ; and thither came messengers 
from King Ryons, who said, ‘ Eleven kings have done me 
homage, and with their beards I have trimmed a mantle. Send 
me now thy beard, for there lacks yet one to the finishing of 
my mantle.’ Then answered Arthur and said, ‘ Go tell your 
master my beard is full young yet to make a trimming of it; but 
yet a little while and he shall do me homage on his Imees.’ 

Now Merlin had told the king that he who should destroy 
him should be born on May-day. Therefore Arthur charged that 
all the children born of lords and ladies on that day should be 
brought to him ; and they were placed in a ship, and Mordred, 
the child of the wife of the King of Orkney, was sent with them. 
But the ship was driven against a castle, and broken in pieces, 
and all died save Mordred, whom a good man took up and 
nourished till he was fourteen years old. 



7 


Arthur and his K^iights, 

CHAPTER II. 

THE STORY OF BALIN AND BALAN. 

Now it came to pass that while Arthur and his lords and knights 
tarried at Cainelot, a damsel brought a message from the great 
Lady Lile of Avilion ; and As she stood before the king she let 
fall her mantle, that was richly furred, and she was seen to be 
girt with a no1)le sword. Then the.king marvelled greatly, and 
asked wherefore she, being a maiden, was thus girt with a sword. 
And the maiden said that the weapon gave her great sorrow and 
cumbrance, and that she could not be freed from the sword save 
by a good and true man without villainy and without treason. 
She told, moreover, how she had been at the court of King 
Ryons, and how no knight there was able to take the 
sword from her side. Then spake the king, ‘ I say not that I 
am the best knight, but I will essay to draw the sword, that at 
the least I may give an example to my barons.’ But, though 
he strove mightily, the sword would not out, and the maiden 
said, ‘ Ye need not pull hard; the man that shall pull it out 
shall do it with little might.’ But neither were any of the 
barons who stood round able to draw it forth ; and the damsel 
took leave of the king to go upon her way. As she went, 
there stood before her a poor knight, named Balin, clad in a 
homely garment; and he had been prisoner half-a-year and more 
because he had slain a knight who was cousin to the king. But 
although he had been delivered out of prison, yet, for the poor¬ 
ness of his raiment he would not put himself far in the throng, 
though in his heart, he was sure that, if the chance were given 
to him, he could do as well as any knight that then was. At the 
first the damsel would not hearken to his prayer ; but Balin bade 
her remember that righteousness lies not in a man’s vesture, and 
that many a good man is not known unto all people. So she 
suffered him to try, and at his touch the sword came from her 
side, and she said, ‘ This is the best knight that ever I found; he 
shall do many good deeds.’ Then she asked Balin to give her 
back the sword again ; and when he would not yield it up, she 
said, ‘ Ye are not wise to keep the sword, for with it thou shalt 
slay thy best friend, and it shall be thy ruin.’ So she went her 
way heavy and sorrowful. 

Then would Balin go on his also, although the king sought to 
stay him because he had done him wrong; and Arthur besought 
aim that at the least, if he went, he would not tarry away long. 


8 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

But while Balin was making ready to depart, the Lady of the 
Lake came to demand of the king the gift which he promised to 
her when she gave him the sword Excalibur; and when Arthur 
bade her say what she would have, she desired the head ot the 
maiden who had brought the sword to Balin, or the head of 
Balin himself. But when the knight heard this he went up to 
the lady and straightway smote off her head. Then was Arthur 
full of wrath, nor would he be soothed, although Balin told him 
she had destroyed many good knights, and had caused his mother 
to be burnt by her lies. And the king charged Balin to go from 
his court. So Balin went to his squire, and bade him bear the 
head to Northumberland, and tell his friends there that his 
worst foe was dead, and that he himself was out of prison. But 
the squire mourned that his master had displeased the king; and 
Balin said that he would go forth and do battle with King Eyons, 
80 that Arthur might be gracious to him again if he came back 
conqueror. 

But while the king was yet wroth with him, a knight named 
Lanceor besought Arthur that he might go after Balin and quit 
him for the despite which he had done in slaying the lady. 
Then, at Arthur’s bidding, Lanceor, the Knight of Ireland, rode 
hastily after Balin, and challenged him to deadly combat, though 
Balin would fain have journeyed on in peace. But Lanceor 
would not let him go; and when they fought together the Knight 
of Ireland was slain. Presently a maiden came riding by, and 
when she saw the knight lying dead, she cried aloud for her 
anguish, and said, * 0 Balin, thou hast slain two bodies and one 
heart, and two hearts in one body, and two souls hast thou lost! * 
And with these words she took the sword from her dead lover’s 
hand and passed it through her own heart. Great was Balin’s, 
grief when he saw the twain lie dead together ; but as in his sorrow 
he looked towards a great forest, he saw coming towards him 
his brother Balan, who first rejoiced to see Balin, and then 
mourned for the evil plight in which he found him. * Let us go 
hence,’ said Balin, when he had told him all the tale. ‘ King 
Byons lays siege to the castle of Dimilioc, and by slaying him I 
trust to win back the king’s grace.’ But not far had they gone, 
when they met a dwarf who came from the city of Camelot, 
and who on hearing what had happened, told Balin that by 
fiUying Lanceor he had done great damage to himself. ^ Trust 
me,’ he said, ‘ the kin of this knight will chase you through the 
world till they have slain you.’ ‘I fear not greatly for that,* 
answered Bahn, ‘ but I grieve that I have displeased the king.* 


Al'thur and his Knights. c 

^ere, on the spot where the knight Lanceor died and the 
maiden whom he loved slew herself, King Mark of Cornwali. 
raised a fair tomb, and placed their bodies within it; and then 
Merlin told King Mark that the ^eatest battle should be fought 
that ever was or shall be betwixt the truest lovers, and yet 
neither of the knights should slay the other, and these should be 
Lancelot du Lake and Tristram. And to Balin Merlin said, 
‘ Because thou hast slain this maiden, thou shalt strike a stroke 
the most dolorous that ever man struck, except the stroke of our 
Lord, for thou shalt hurt the truest knight that now lives, and 
bring three kingdoms into misery for twelve years.’ After these 
words Merlin vanished away, and King Mark said to Balin, 
^ Tell me thy name.’ Then suid Balan, ‘ Ye see that he beareth 
two swords, and the Knight of the Two Swords you may call 
him.’ But as the brothers rode away together. Merlin again 
came to them, and made them lie hidden in a wood among leaves 
beside the highway, that so they might fall upon King Ryons as 
he passed by. So when at midnight he came with threescore of 
his best knights, they slew his horsemen, and carried Ryons away, 
and gave him in charge to the porters of King Arthur. But 
Merlin hastened on before them to tell the king that his worst 
foe was taken. ‘ By whom ? ’ asked the king. ‘ By two knights 
wliose names thou shalt know on the morrow.’ And on the 
morrow, when Arthur learnt that it was Balin with his brother 
Balan who had done him this service, he said that he had ill- 
deserved the kindness. * He shall do yet more for thee,’ said 
Merlin, ‘ for the brother of Ryons is even now at hand with a 
great host to do battle with thee to the death.’ 

In the fight which then came off* the two brothers did won- 
drously: and the brother of King Ryons was worsted with all 
his host, because Merlin held back the King of Orkney and his 
people with a tale of prophecy, till the battle was well nigh done, 
i^ nd when at length the King of Orkney came to the fight, he 
was slain by Sir Pellinore, on whom Sir Gawaine, the king’s son, 
ten years afterwards avenged his father’s death. Twelve kings 
were killed in this battle: and for them Arthur made twelve 
tombs, each with an image holding a waxen taper, which Merlin 
said should burn no more when he was dead. Then the wise 
man charged the king to keep heedfully the scabbard of Excali- 
btir, because he should lose no blood while he had this scabbard 
about him. So for great trust he took it to his sister Morgan lo 
Fay: but Morgan loved another knight named Accolon better 
than Arthur or her husband Urieiis, and to him she gave the 


lo Popular Romances of the Middle A§;es, 

scabbard of Excalibur while she made another like it for her 
brother by inchaiitments. 

Not many days after this, as Arthur lay sick in his tent, there 
passed by a knight in great sorrow, who gave no heed though the 
king strove to comfort him. Then Arthur bade Balin go and 
bring back the sorrowful knight; and when Balin came up to 
him, the knight promised to do as he desired, if Balin would be 
his warrant. So Balin sware to him ; but for all this the knight 
was slain by the hand of one whom none might see; and as he 
foil he said, ‘ This is the deed of Garlon.’ Then as Balin rode 
onward with the damsel who had loved the dead knight, and 
with another knight Perin of Montbeliard, the hand of Garlon 
unseen smote again and Perin fell dead : and Balin went on with 
the damsel alone, till they came to a castle, where the men seized 
the maiden and would not let her go till she had bled a silver 
dish full for the lady of the place, who was sick and who could 
in no other wise be healed, even as it befell afterwards the sister 
of Sir Percivale in the story of the Sangreal. 

Yet a few days after this, Balin was lodged in the house of 
a man whose son had been smitten by the invisible knight, and 
could not be healed till he had drunk of that knight’s blood. 
Then said Balin, ‘ This is Garlon, who has already slain two of 
my comrades, and I would rather slay him than have all the gold 
in the realm.’ ‘ He shall come before thee,’ said his host, ‘ in a 
feast which King Pellam will hold not many days hence.’ 

At that feast the invisible knight was slain; and King Pellam 
and his knights rose up fiercely against Balin, because he had 
killed their brother: and Balin put up his sword to ward off the 
stroke of King Pellam, but his sword was shivered in twain, and 
Balin ran from chamber to chamber seeking a new weapon, until 
he came to a chamber marvellously light, in which was a bed 
arrayed with cloth of gold, and by it a table of pure gold borne 
up by four pillars of silver, and on the table was a marvellous 
spear strangely wrought. Seizing this spear Balin smote Pellam; 
and this was the dolorous stroke: for thereon Pellam fell down 
in a swoon, and the castle roof and walls fell to the earth, and 
lay upon Pellam and Balin three days. At the end of these days 
came Merlin, who lifted them up, but Pellam lay many years sore 
wounded, till Galahad healed him in the quest of the Sangreal, 
Then Balin bade farewell to Merlin a;nd said to him, ‘In this 
world we meet newer more;’ but wherever he went, the people 
cried, ‘ 0 Balin, thy dolorous stroke hath brought us to ruin; 
and doubt not but the vengeance will fall on thee at the last’ 


II 


Arthur and his Knights. 

Glad was Baliii to get out of these dismal lands: but when he 
had left them behind him, there were yet grievous things for him 
to see and to suffer. For first, a knight whom he had aided to 
find the maiden whom he loved, slew the damsel for her treachery, 
and then drave his sword into his own body; and next, Balin 
was intrapped into a fair castle, in which he saw an hundred 
ladies and many knights, with whom was dancing and minstrelsy 
and all manner of joy, and the lady of the castle told him that he 
must joust with a knight who kept an island, and another bade 
him leave his own shield and take from the wall another which 
was larger. So Balin did even as he bade him; and when he 
drew near to the island, a knight hastened towards him with 
spear in rest, and their horses drave together with a great shock, 
so that both were thrown down and lay in a swoon. Presently 
they rose up and fought again till their breath failed, and all the 
place as they s'trove was blood red. At the last the other went 
away to one side and laid him down, and Balin said, ‘ Who art 
thou ] for never have I found one to match me.’ ‘ My name,’ 
said the other, ‘ is Balan, and I am brother to the good knight 
Balin.’ Then Balin swooned away again for grief and anguish, 
and when he awoke once more he said, ‘0 brother, thou hast 
slain me, and I thee, and all the world will speak of us both.’ 
* Alas ! ’ said Balan, ‘ I knew thee not, for though I saw thy two 
swords, yet, because thou didst carry a larger shield, I thought 
that thou wast not the same knight.’ As they thus made their 
moan the lady of the tower came with four knights and six 
ladies, and six yeomen with them, and these they besought that 
they might be buried within the same place where they had 
fought together; and so the brothers died. In the noon came 
Merlin and wrote on the tomb letters of gold which said, ‘ Here 
lieth Balin the Knight of the Two Swords, who smote the dolo¬ 
rous stroke.’ And he took Balin’s sword, and set on it another 
pommel in place of its own, and gave it to a knight to handle; 
but the knight could not stir it. Then said Merlin, ‘ None but 
the best knight shall handle this sword; and that shall be Sir 
Lancelot, or his son Galahad: and with this sword Lancelot 
shall slay Sir Gawaine, the man that he loved best in the world.’ 
Then also Merlin made a bridge of iron and steel into that 
island, half-a-foot broad, over which those only should pass who 
were not guilty of fraud and falsehood ; ^ and by his subtilty he 

1 This is manifestly the bridge Al-Sirat of Mohammedan tradition. With 
it may be compared the Teutonic Bifrbst, the waving bridge which joirji 
earth and heaven. 


12 


Popidar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Caused Balin’s sword to be put in a marble stone standing upright 
as great as a millstone, and the stone, heaved up above the water, 
swam down the stream for many years till it reached the city of 
Camelot. On that same day Galahad brought the scabbard of 
Balin’s sword, and so got the weapon in the marble stone that 
floated upon the water. And when these things were done, 
Merlin came to King Arthur and told him of the dolorous stroke 
which Balin gave to King Pellam, and of all the evils which had 
followed it; and King Arthur mourned at the tidings, for he 
said, ‘ In the world I know not two such knights as these.’ 

So ends the tale of Balin and Balan, the good knights of 
Northumberland. 


CHAPTEE in. 

THE WEDDING OF ARTHUR AND GUENEVERB. 

Now the king took counsel with Merlin, because his barona 
would have him take a wife; and Merlin asked, ‘ Is there any on 
whom thy love is set P ‘ Yes,’ said the king, ‘ I love Guenevere, 
the daughter of King Leodegrance who has in his house the 
Bound Table which he had from my father Uther.’ ‘ In truth,* 
answered Merlin, ‘ the maiden for her beauty is right well-fitted 
to be a queen : but if ye loved her not so well as ye do, I might 
find another who should please thee not less, for Guenevere can 
not be a wholesome wife for thee, and she will bring great sorrow 
to thee and to thy realha. But when a man’s heart is set, it may 
not easily be turned aside.’ *• That is true,’ said the king : and 
straightway he sent messengers to King Leodegrance to ask for 
his daughter, and Leodegrance rejoiced at the tidings. ‘ I would 
yield him rich lands with my child,’ he said, ‘ but Arthur has 
lands enough. Yet will I send him a gift that shall please him 
more, for I will give him the Bound Table which Uther Pen- 
dragon gave me, and to which there were a hundred knights and 
fifty. Of these fifty have been slain in my days, but the hundred 
shall go with Guenevere.’ So they set out, and by water and 
land came royally to London, where the king joyously welcomed 
his bride and the hundred knights, and bade Merlin spy out fifty 
more knights throughout the land, who might be worthy to sit at 
that table : but only twenty-eight could Merlin find. Then the 
Bishop of Canterbury came and blessed the seats for the eight- 



13 


Arthur and his K^iights, 

and-twenty knights, who did homage to the king. And when 
they were gone, Merlin found in every seat letters of gold that 
told the names of the knights who had sat therein. But two 
seats were void. 

Then came young Gawaine and besought the king to make 
him a knight on the day in which he should wed Guenevere; 
and the king said that so it should be, because he was his sister’s 
son. And after him, riding upon a lean mare, came a poor man 
who brought with him a fair youth ; and he also besought Arthur 
that the youth might be made a knight. ‘ Thou askest me a 
great thing,’ said Arthur. ‘ Who art thou ? and does this prayer 
come of thee or of thy soni’ ‘ I am Aries the cowherd,’ answered 
the man, *and I desire not this of myself. Nay, to say truth, I 
have thirteen sons, who will ever do that which I bid them ; but 
this one will spend his time only in folly and delights, only in 
battles and to see knights.’ Then the king bent his eyes on the 
youth, who was named Tor, and he saw that he was both brave 
and fair \ and he bade that the other sons of the cowherd should 
be brought. But all these were shapen like the poor man, and 
none was in any wise like Tor. Then the youth knelt and 
besought the king to make him a knight of the Bound Table. 
‘A knight I will make you,’ said Arthur, ‘and hereafter thou 
shalt be also of the Bound Table, if thou art found worthy.’ 
Then turning to Merlin, he said, ‘ Will Tor be a good knight ] ’ 
‘ Of a truth, he will,’ answered Merlin, ‘ for he is no son of the 
cowherd. His father is King Pellinore.’ 

When on the morrow King Pellinore came to the court, the 
king brought Sir Tor before him and told him that he was his 
son; and Sir Pellinore embraced him joyfully. Then the king 
asked Merlin why two places were void in the seats : and Merlin 
said, ‘ No man shall sit in those places, but they that are of most 
worship : and on the Perilous Seat there is but one man on the 
earth who shall be found worthy to sit. If any who are not 
worthy dare to sit on it, he shall be destroyed.’ Then taking 
Pellinore by the hand, he put him next the two seats and the 
Seat Perilous, and sa d, ‘ This is your place, for of all that are 
here you are the most worthy to sit in it.’ When Sir Gawaine 
heard these words, he was moved with envy, that the man who 
had slain his father, the King of Orkney, should be thus honoured; 
and he would have slain him straightway, but his brother Gaheris 
besought him not to trouble the high feast by so doing. ‘ Let us 
wait till we have him out of the courtand Gawaine said, ‘ I 
will’ 


14 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

When now the marriage day was come, the king wedded 
Guenevere at Camelot in the Church of St Stephen; and after¬ 
wards there was great feasting, and Arthur gave charge to Sir 
Gawaine and Gaheris his brother, to Sir Tor and his' father Sir 
Pellinore, who went forth, and each did great deeds before they 
came back to the king. With Sir Pellinore came a lady, whom 
lie had rescued, named Nimue; and'as they journeyed to Camelot, 
and were resting under the shadow of thick trees, two knights 
met, as they rode by, and one a'sked the other what tidings there 
might be from Camelot; and the other told him of the fellowship 
of Arthur’s table, and said, ‘We cannot break it up; and well 
nigh all the world holdeth with Arthur, for there is the flower of 
chivalry. Wherefore with these tidings I ride to the north.’ 
‘ Nay,’ said the other, •' there is no need I have a remedy with 
me; for I bear a poison to a friend who is right nigh to Arthur, 
and with it he will poison the king.’ So they went each on his 
way, and Sir Pellinore told all that he had seen and heard when 
he came to the king at Camelot, with the lady whom he had 
rescued. 

But when Merlin set eyes on the damsel, he was besotted with 
her, and would let her have no rest, but always she must be with 
him. And she spake him fair till she had learned of him all 
manner of things that she sought to know. Yet the old man 
knew what should befall him, and he told the king that yet a 
little while, and he should go down into the earth alive, and he 
warned Arthur to keep well the sword and the scabbard, fcr 
these would be stolen by a woman whom he most trusted. 
‘ Nay,’ said the king, ‘ but if thou knowest what shall befall thee, 
why dost thou not prevent that mishap by thy craft P ‘ It may 
not be,’ said Merlin; and presently the damsel went away, and 
Merlin followed whithersoever she went; but she had made him 
swear to do no inchantment upon her, if he would have her love. 
So he went with her over the sea to the land of Benwick, 'where 
Merlin spake with Elaine, King Ban’s wife, and there he saw 
young Lancelot; and Elaine mourned greatly for the fierce war 
which Claudas made against Ban. ‘ Heed it not,’ said Merlin, 
‘ for before twenty years are gone, this child shall revenge you 
on King Claudas, and he shall be the man of most worship in the 
world.’ ‘ Shall I indeed,’ asked Elaine, ‘live to see my son a man 
of so great a prowess P ‘Yea, indeed thou shalt see it,’ answered 
Merlin, ‘ and live many years after.’ Soon after this, the maiden 
departed, and Merlin went with her till they came into Cornwall; 
but the damsel was weary of him, and afraid because he wa* a 


Arthur a 7 id his Knights. 15 

devil’s son, and so it came to pass that when Merlin showed her 
a marvellous rock, beneath which there were great inchantments, 
she besought him to go under the stone and show her the marvels 
that were there; but when he was beneath it, she so wrought 
that he never came forth again; and she left him and went her 
way. 


CHAPTER ly. 

THE TREASON OF MORGAN LE FATi 

About this time, as Arthur rode to Camelot, the tidings came 
that the King of Denmark, with five other kings, was ravaging 
the land of the north. ‘ Alas ! ’ said Arthur, ‘ when have I had 
one month’s rest since I became king of the land ? ’ Neverthe¬ 
less, he would not tarry an hour, although his lords were wroth 
because he set out thus hastily. So he hastened away with 
Guenevere the queen (for he said that he should be the hardier if 
she were with him), and came into a forest beside Humber; and 
a knight, when he heard that Arthur was come, warned the five 
kings to make haste and do battle with him, for the longer they 
tarried they would be ever the weaker, and Arthur stronger. 
And the five kings hearkened to his words, and fell on Arthur in 
the night; but though they killed many, and there was for some 
while a great tumult, yet Arthur and his knights. Sir Kay, Sir 
Gawaine, and Sir Griflet, slew the five kings. In the morning, 
when their people knew that they were dead, they were struck 
with such fear that they fell from their horses, and Arthur and 
his men came upon them, and slew them to the number of thirty 
thousand, so that well nigh no man escaped alive; but on Arthur’s 
side were slain only two hundred, with eight knights of the Round 
Table. And Arthur raised a fair church and minster on the 
battle-field, and called it the Abbey of Good Adventure. 

Then the king took counsel with Sir Pellinore about the knights 
who should be chosen for the Round Table in place of those who 
had been slain; and Pellinore gave counsel to choose Uriens, the 
husband of Morgan le Fay, the king’s sister, and Galagars, and 
Hervise, and the King of the Lake, and with these four younger 
knights, of whom there were Gawaine, Griflet, and Kay; and for 
the fourth he bade Arthur choose between Tor and Bagdemagus. 
And Arthur chose Tor, because he said little and did much; and 



16 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Bagdemagus went away sore displeased, and swore never to 
come back till he should be worthy to be chosen for the Bound 
Table. As he rode with his squire he found a branch of an holy 
herb which was the sign of the Sangreal, and no man of evil life 
could ever find it. Then he came to the rock beneath which lay 
Merlin, making great dole; but when he would have helped him, 
Merl n bade him not to spend his strength for naught, for only 
she could help him who had put him there. So Bagdemagus 
went his way, and after doing many great deeds he came back 
and was chosen a knight of the Bound Table. 

Now Arthur, with many of his knights, went hunting and 
chased a hart till they left their people far behind them, and at 
last their horses fell dead. ‘ Let us go on on foot,’ said Uriens ; 
and at last they came up with the hart, and they saw also a great 
water, and on it a ship which came straight towards them, and 
landed on the sands. But when they looked into it they found 
no earthly creature therein, and they wondered for the beauty of 
the ship, which was hung all over with cloth of silk. And now 
it was dark night, when suddenly there burst forth a great light, 
and twelve damsels came forth, and welcomed Arthur by his 
name, and led him with Uriens and Accolon of Gaul, who were 
with him, to a table laden with wine and costly things, and then 
brought them each into a fair chamber that they might rest. But 
in the morning Uriens found himself in Camelot with Morgan le 
Fay, his wife, and King Arthur found himself in a dark prison, 
in which he heard the moaning of many who were shut up with 
him. Then the king asked them how they came there, and they 
told him that they had all been entrapped on their way by an 
evil knight, named Damas, who kept back part of his heritage from 
his brother Sir Ontzlake, whom men loved as much as they hated 
Damas; but because Ontzlake was the better knight, Damas was 
afraid to fight with him, and sought to get a champion, but none 
would take spear in hand for so evil a man; and so it came to pass 
that they abode in the weary prison till eighteen had died. Pre¬ 
sently there came a damsel who asked Arthur if he would fight for 
Damas. ‘ Yea, I will do so,’ he said, ‘ for it is better to fight with 
a knight than to die in a dungeon—but only if all here be set 
free.’ Then the maiden said that so it should be, and that a 
horse and armour should be brought for the king. And the king 
said to the maiden, ‘ Surely I have seen thee in the court of 
Arthur;’ and she said, ‘Nay ; for I am the daughter of the lord 
of this castle.’ But she spake falsely, for she was one of the 
damsels of Morgan le Fay. So was it sworn between them that 


A rthur and his Knights, 17 

Damas should set all the knights free, and that Arthur should do 
battle for him to the death. 

Thus had it hired with Arthur. But when Accolon awoke, he 
found himself by a dark well-side, and from that fountain through 
a silver pipe the w'ater ran in a marble basin ; and Accolon said, 
'God help King Arthur, for these women have betrayed us.’ 
And even as he spake there came a dwarf who brought him 
greetings from Morgan le Fay, and bade him be of good heart. 
‘ In the morning,’ he said, ‘ thou shalt fight with a knight at the 
hour of prime, and here is Excalibur, Arthur’s sword, and the 
scabbard. Wherefore rise up and do battle without mercy, as ye 
love her.’ So he sware to do as he was bidden for the love of 
Morgan le Fay; and presently a knight and a lady, with six 
squires, led him to the house of Sir Ontzlake : and a messenger 
came from Damas to say that he had found a knight to fight for 
him, and to challenge Ontzlake to the battle. But Ontzlake was 
sorely wounded, and besought Accolon to take his cause in hand, 
and thus it came to pass that Accolon fought with the king’s 
sword against the king whom he loved, for he knew not who he 
was who fought for Sir Damas. Long and terrible was the fight, 
for the false sword which Morgan le Fay had given to Arthur hit 
not like Excalibur, and the blood streamed from the king’s body 
because the scabbard which he wore was not the scabbard of 
Excalibur, and thus as the strife went on Arthur grew weaker, 
while Accolon waxed stronger. But Arthur would not yield, not 
even when his sword broke at the cross and fell into the grass 
while the pommel remained in his hands. Then Accolon stood 
over the king and bade him yield himself, for he was greatly loth 
to slay him ; but Arthur said, ‘ 1 have sworn to fight to the death, 
and I lose not good name because I lose ray weapon.’ So when 
Accolon came against him once more, Arthur struck him with the 
pommel a blow so heavy that he reeled three strides backward. 
But the Lady of the Lake ivas looking on, and it was a grief to 
her that such a knight as Arthur should be slain. So at the next 
stroke she caused Excalibur to fly from the hand of Accolon, and 
Arthur leaping forth seized it in his hand, and said, ‘ Too long 
hast thou been from me, and much harm hast thou wrought me.’ 
Then looking at Accolon he spied the scabbard of his own sword, 
and with a quick rush he seized it and threw it far away from 
them both. 'Kow,’ said Arthur to Accolon, ‘thou shalt die;’ 
and he dealt him a blow that the blood rushed from him in a 
torrent. ‘ Slay me if thou wilt,’ said Accolon, ‘ but I have sworn 
not to yield me in this fight. Yet thou art the best knight that 

¥1 


j 8 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

ever I have seen, and well I know that God is with you/ * Tell 
me, then, who thou art,’ said Arthur; and he answered, ‘ I am 
Accolon of Gaul, of King Arthur’s court.’ ‘Nay, hut I am 
Arthur,’ said the king in great fear because of the inchant- 
ments of Morgan le Fay; ‘ tell me now, how earnest thou 
by the sword and the scabbard ’ Then Accolon told him 
how the dwarf had brought them from Morgan le Fay, but 
that he knew not against whom he was using them in this 
fight; and he besought the king’s pardon. Then said Arthur, 

‘ Thee I can forgive; but upon my sister I will take such 
vengeance that all Christendom shall ring with it, for I have 
worshipped her more than all my kin, and trusted her more 
than mine own wife.’ Then Arthur told the keepers of 
the field that there would have been no battle between 
them if each had known who the other was ; and Accolon said, 

‘ This knight with whom I have fought, to my great sorrow, is 
the man of most manhood and worship in the world, for he is 
our liege lord. King Arthur.’ Then the people, falling on their 
knees, prayed for mercy. ‘ Mercy ye shall have,’ said Arthur; 
‘ and this is my judgment betwixt the two brethren. For thee. 
Sir Damas, I learn that thou art but a worthless knight, and full 
of villainy; thou shalt give to thy brother the whole manor to 
hold of thee ; also thou shalt swear no more to harm knights who 
may be journeying on their way, and thou shalt give back to 
those knights who have been set free from thy dungeon all the 
harness of which thou hast robbed them ; and if any come to me 
to say thou hast not done this, thou shalt die. Thee, Sir 
Ontzlake, I bid to my court, for thou art a brave knight, and an 
upright man.’ Moreover, Arthur told Ontzlake how the battle 
between himself and Accolon had been brought about, and 
Ontzlake marvelled that any man or woman could be found to 
work treason against Arthur; and the king said, ‘ I shall soon 
reward them by the grace- of God.’ But the king needed rest 
after the fight, and they brought him to a fair abbey where in 
four days Sir Accolon died, for he had lost so much blood that he 
could not live. Then said Arthur, ‘ Bear this body to my sister, 
Morgan le Fay, and say that I sent it to her as a gift, and that I 
have my sword and its scabbard.’ So they bare the body of 
Accolon to Camelot. 

But meantime Morgan le Fay made sure that Arthur had died, 
and she bade one of her maidens fetch her husband’s sword, for 
now would she slay him. In vain the damsel besought her not 
to do so ; and she went to Sir Uwaine and said, ‘Rise up, for thy 


19 


A rtJmr and his Knights, 

mother is about to slay thy father, and I go .to fetch the sword.’ 
Presently as Morgan le Fay stood by the bedside witli the sword 
in her hands, Sir Uwaine seized her and said, ‘Ah, fiend, what 
wilt thou do Men say that a devil was Merlin’s father, and I 
may say that a devil is my mother.’ Then Morgan cried for mercy 
and besought him not to discover her; and Uwaine made her 
swear that she would not do the like in time to come. 

At last the tidings came that it was Accolon who had died, and 
that Arthur had again his sword and his scabbard, and the heart 
of Morgan almost burst with her grief. But because she would not 
have it known, she suffered not her face to bewray her sorrow; 
and because she knew that if she tarried till Arthur came back 
no ransom should save her life, she besought Queen Guenevere 
for leave to ride into the country; and on the morrow she 
hastened to the abbey where Arthur lay sleeping, and lighting off 
her horse went straight into the chamber, where she found 
Arthur asleep and Excalibur naked in his right hand. So, 
grieving terribly that she might not take the sword without 
awaking him, she took the scabbard and went her way. When 
Arthur awoke and saw that his scabbard was gone, he charged 
his knights with having watched him falsely ; but they said, 
‘We durst not withstand your sister’s bidding.’ Then Arthur 
bid Sir Ontzlake arm and ride with him in all haste, and they 
hastened after Morgan, until they saw her speeding from them as 
fast as her horse could bear her. When at last she knew that 
there was no hope of escape, she swore that her brother should 
never have the scabbard, and taking it from her girdle she hurled it 
into a lake hard by, and it sunk forthwith, for it was heavy with gold 
and precious stones. Then riding on she came to a valley where 
there were many large stones, and because she saw that Arthur 
would soon overtake her, she turned herself and those who were 
with her into stones, so that when they came up, the king could 
not discern between his sister and her men. So he rode back to 
the abbey whence he had come; and when he was gone, Morgan 
turned herself and her men into their former likeness, and as she 
went on, she rescued from a knight who was going to drown him, 
a cousin of Accolon named Manassen, and she bade him go tell 
Arthur that she had rescued him not for the love of the king 
but for love of Accolon, and that she feared nothing so long as 
she could change herself and those who were with her into 
stones, for she could do greater things than these when the time 
should come. 

JSot long had Manassen reached Camelot when there came a 


20 


Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

damsel, bearing the richest mantle that ever was seen, set full of 
precious stones, and she said, ‘ Your sister sends this mantle that 
you may take this gift from her, and if in aught she has done you 
wrong, she will amend it.’ But the Lady of the Lake warned 
him in secret, ‘ Take heed that the garment come not nigh thee 
or any of thy knights, until thou hast made the bringer of it put 
it on.’ Then said the king to the maiden, ‘I would see upon you 
this raiment which ye have brought,’ and when the damsel said 
that it was not seemly for her to wear a king’s garment, Arthur 
made them put it on her, and she was burnt to coals. But the 
king turned to Sir Uriens and said, ‘I know not what these 
treasons may mean. Thee I can scarcely suspect, for Accolon 
confessed to me that Morgan would destroy thee as well as me; 
for Uwaine I hold suspected, and I bid thee send him from my 
court.’ Then said Gawaine, ‘ He who banishes my cousin banishes 
me ; ’ so the two departed, and Gaheris said, ‘ We have lost two 
good knights for the love of ona’ 

As they went upon their way Uwaine and Gawaine came to a 
tower ill a valley, where twelve maidens with two knights went 
to and fro near a tree on which hung a white shield, and they spit 
at the shield and threw mire on it as they passed: and they 
asked the maidens why they did so, they said, ‘ It is the shield of 
Sir Marhaus who hates all ladies.’ ‘ It may be that he has cause, 
said Gawaine; and presently came Marhaus himself, and the two 
knights of the tower hastened to do battle with him, but they 
were both slain ; and after this Marhaus jousted with Gawaine 
and Uwaine. The fight was long and fierce, for so it was that 
from nine of the clock till noontide .Gawaine waxed stronger and 
stronger ; but when it was past noon and drew toward evensong. 
Sir Gawaine’s strength waned, and Sir Marhaus grew bigger and 
bigger, and at last Marhaus said, ‘ It were a pity to do you hurt, 
for you are passing feeble.’ So they took off their helmets and 
kissed each other, and swore to love henceforth as brethren : and 
they went together to the home of Sir Marhaus, with whom 
Bav aine and Uwaine tarried seven days till their wounds were 
well healed. Then Marhaus guided them to the forest of Alroy, 
in which by a fair stream of water they saw three damsels sitting. 
The eldest had a garland of gold upon her head, and her hair was 
white under her garland, for she had seen threescore winters or 
more. The second had on her head a circlet of gold, and she was 
thirty winters old. The third, whose head was crowned with 
flowers, had seen only fifteen summers. ‘ Wherefore sit ye by 
the fountain?’ asked the knight, and the maidens answered, ‘We 


Arthur and his Knights, 21 

sit here watching for errant knights, that we may teach them 
strange adventures : and if ye be men who seek adventures, each 
one of you must choose one of us, and we will lead you to three 
highways, and then each of you shall choose his way and his 
damsel shall go with him ; and when twelve months have passed, 
ye must meet here again; and to this ye must plight your troth.’ 
‘ It is well said,’ they answered; and Sir Uwaine said, ‘ I am the 
youngest and the weakest, therefore will I have the eldest damsel, 
tor she has seen much and can help me best when I have need.’ 
Tlmii said Sir Marhaus, ‘ I will have the second damsel, for she 
hills best to me.’ ‘ I thank you,’ said Sir Gawaine, ‘ for ye have 
left me the youngest and fairest, and she only it is whom 1 would 
have.’ When they came to the parting of the roads, they kissed 
and went each his way—Sir Uwaine to the west, Sir Marhaus to 
the south, and Sir Gawaine to the north. 

Now, when he had gone some way, Gawaine came to a lawn, 
and near a cross which stood there, there came by the fairest 
knight that they had ever seen : but he was mourning as one in 
great grief. Then there followed ten knights who threw their 
spears at the sorrowful knight, but he unhorsed them all, and 
afterwards suffered them to bind him and to treat him shamefully. 
* Why go you not to his help ^ ’ said the damsel to Gawaine. ‘ I 
would do so,’ he answered, ‘ but it seems he will have no help.’ 
But now three knights came and challenged Gawaine to joust 
with them: and while they were jousting, another knight came 
to the damsel and asked why she abode with him who had brought 
her thither. ‘ I find it not in my heart,’ she said, ‘ to abide with 
him any longer, for he helps not those who need his aid; ’ and she 
departed wdth the stranger. When the jousting was ended, 
Gawaine asked who the sorrowful knight might be; and they told 
him that his name was Sir Pelleas, and that he loved the lady 
Ettard, who would not listen to his suit, and even drove him from 
her with evil words, although in a great jousting he had won the 
right to crown the fairest lady, and had placed the circlet upon 
her brow. But so was Pelleas smitten by love for Ettard, that he 
suffered her knights to bind him after he had conquered them in 
fighting, in hopes that he might thus be brought into her sight; 
but he hoped in vain. Then said Gawaine, ‘ I will go and help 
him, and he shall see the lady of his love.’ So on the next day 
he made an oath with Pelleas that he would win the damsel for 
him, and when he came to the house of Ettard, he told her that 
he was a knight who had slain Sir Pelleas. At this Ettard was 
F > full of joy that she welcomed Gawaine and made him good 


22 


Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

cheer, until he forgot the word he had plighted to Pelleas, and 
wooed the maiden for himself. When Pelleas knew that Gawaine 
was forsworn, he took horse, for lie could tarry no longer for pure 
sorrow ; and he went his way and laid him down upon his bed to 
die. But the Lady of the Lake whom Merlin had loved came and 
looked on him as he slept, and she said, ‘ So fair a knight shall 
not die p and in two hours she came back with the lady Ettard, 
and threw such an inchantment upon her that Ettard loved 
Pelleas now as much as she had hated him in time past. But 
when Pelleas woke and saw her standing near, he hated her with 
all his soul. ‘ Begone, traitress,’ he said, ‘ and never come near 
me more.’ So Ettard went away and died of sorrow, and the Lady 
of the Lake led Pelleas into her own land, and they loved together 
while they lived. 

But Marhaus with the maiden of thirty winters’ age did better 
things, for he came first to the house of a duke who received him 
churlishly, and when he knew who he was, said that on the 
morrow he must fight with himself and his six sons, because 
Gawaine had slain his seven sons and now was the time for 
vengeance, and Marhaus must fight alone with seven against him. 
So on the morrow they fought, and Marhaus was so mighty that 
he overthrew them all, and made them swear never more to be 
foes to King Arthur or his knights. Then Marhaus went on 
with his damsel, and at a great tourney he won a rich circlet of 
gold worth a thousand besants, and afterwards slew a terrible 
giant who ravaged the lands of Earl Fergus, and delivered 
many ladies and knights out of the giant’s dungeon. There 
he got great riches, so that he was never poor all the days of 
his life, and so went on his way with the maiden to the tryst- 
in g-place. 

Likewise with the damsel of sixty winters’ age. Sir LTwaine 
bore himself as a good knight, for he avenged the Lady of the 
Rock against those who had robbed her of her heritage, and re¬ 
stored to her all her lands ; and Sir. Uwaine dwelt with the lady 
for nearly half a year, to be healed of the grievous wounds which 
he had received when he did battle on her behalf. Then as the 
year came round, he hastened with the maiden to the trysting- 
place: and all met there, as they had agreed; but the damsel 
that Gawaine had could say little good of him. 

So at last they came back to the king, who was right glad to 
see them, and bade them tell him all that had befallen them. 
When the feast of Pentecost came, the Lady of the Lake brought 
with her Sir Pelleas, who was made a knight of the Round Table, 


23 


ArtJmr and his Knights. 

and Sir Marhaus also, for there were two seats void, for two 
knights were slain that year: and Sir Pelleas was afterwards one 
of the four that achieved the Sangrcal. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE CROWNING OF ARTHUR AT ROME. 

Now it was that, as Arthur held a royal feast with the knights of 
the Round Table, and the kings and princes who were his friends 
and alliec, there came twelve ancient men and charged him to 
pay truage for his realm to the emperor who was at Rome. 
Then some of the knights and lords were so wroth that they 
would have slain the messengers, but Arthur stayed their hands. 

* I like not their message,’ he said, ‘ but I must remember mine 
honour.’ 

Then Arthur took counsel, and when the King of Scotland, 
the Lord of West Wales, and the King of Little Britain, with 
many others, had sworn to help him, he sent for the Roman 
messengers, and said, ‘ Go tell your lord it is I who am emperor, 
not he, and I am coming to Rome with my army to make good 
my right and subdue those that rebel against me.’ Then with 
large gifts and great courtesy he sent them away: and when 
they reached Rome, there was sore fear among the great men who 
were with the emperor, and one said to him, ‘ It may be thou 
hast made a rod for thyself, for Arthur is all another man than 
ye think for, and around him is the noblest fellowship of knights, 
lords, and princes that is in the world. For his courage the 
world is too little, and in his person he is the most manly man 
that lives.’ Then the emperor told how he meant to pass the 
mountains and do battle with Arthur; and he summoned to¬ 
gether all the kings and chiefs who were bound to do him service 
from Europe and from Africa, from Ind and Egypt, Galatia and 
Turkey, and with them fifty giants who were born of fiends to 
guard his person. So came the emperor to Cologne. 

And Arthur held a Parliament at York, and there left his 
queen and realm to the governance of Sir Baldwin and Sir Con¬ 
stantine, and then sailed away with his host from Sandwich. 
4fter they had landed at Barfiete in Flanders, there came a poor 
man who told the king of a great giant who slew men and 



24 Popular Ro?nances of the Middle Ages, 

devoured children in Brittany, and how he had stolen away the 
duchess, the wife of Howell, the king’s cousin. Then with Sir 
Kay and Sir Bedivere he .rode on pilgrimage to St Michael’s 
Mount, but when he reached its foot, he bade them stay while he 
went up alone. Fearful was the fight when he found the giant 
gnawing the limbs of a man and challenged him to battle, for 
when the king had smitten him, the giant threw away his club 
and catching him in his arms crushed his ribs; and so they 
struggled and wrung together, till they rolled down the hill and 
reached the sea mark at the place where the king had charged 
Sir Kay and Sir Bedivere to await him. And now he bade Sir 
Kay to smite off the giant’s head and bear it to Sir Howell; and 
the people came and thanked the king for his great exploit. 
* Give the thanks to God,’ he said, ‘ and part the goods among 
you.’ 

Then were there fearful battles between Arthur’s men and the 
hosts of the emperor; but. everywhere Arthur’s men were the 
conquerors, and when he saw what great things his knights had 
done, he embraced them knight by knight in his arms and said, 
‘ Never was there king that had knights so noble as mine.’ At 
the last there came a day in which Arthur fought with the 
emperor and smote him with Excalibur that he died; and he 
sent the body with the bodies of many lords who had been slain, 
charging the men who. bare them to tell the Eomans that the 
king sent them as the tribute for which they had asked, and that 
if this did not suffice he would pay them more when he came 
himself to Borne. Thither he went by Milan and Pavia, and 
through Tuscany, and in the cities to which he came all the 
people yielded him homage and sware to be his subjects for ever; 
and at Borne at Christmastide he was crowned emperor by the 
Pope, and then he held high festival with his knights, and gave 
lands and realms unto his servants, in such wdse that none com¬ 
plained whether rich or poor. So was his journey ended with 
honour and worship. Then said the king, ‘To tempt God is no 
'w isdom; therefore wend we again to England and to England 
they came, and Queen Guenevere hastened to meet her lord at 
Sandwich ; and at every city and burgh the commons brought 
him splendid gifts to welcome home their king. 



Arthur and his Knights. 


25 


CHAPTER VL 

THE EXPLOITS OF SIR LANCELOT DU LAKE. 

Among the knights who had fought for Arthur with the Romans 
none had done so great deeds as Lancelot du Lake; and for this 
Queen Guenevere had him in favour above all other knights, and 
of a truth he loved the queen above all other ladies and damsels 
all his life, and for her did many deeds of arm^s. When he was 
now well rested, he set out with his nephew Sir Lionel, and they 
rode into a deep forest and so into a deep plain; and as the sun 
waxed hot, tlie eyes of Lancelot became heavy with sleep, and 
Lionel said, ‘ See here is a great apple-tree; there rest we our¬ 
selves and our horses.’ So there they alighted, and tied their 
horses to trees, and Lancelot sank to sleep heavily while Lionel 
kept watch. But as he watched, there came three knights 
riding, and yet another followed who smote down the three who 
had gone before ; and Lionel thought to rescue them, and j)rivily 
mounted his horse, because he sought not to awake Lancelot. 
But he fared no better than the three knights, for he too was 
taken, and carried by the knight to his castle, where he with 
them was beaten with thorns, and thrust into a dungeon. In like 
manner fared Sir Ector de Maris, who had followed Lancelot to 
aid him. He too was seized by Sir Turquine, and when he found 
Sir Lionel in the dungeon, he asked him where Sir Lancelot 
might be. ‘ I left him asleep,’ he said, ‘ under an apple-tree, 
when I went from him; but what is become of him I cannot tell.’ 
‘Alas! ’ said the knights who were captivQS in the dungeon, ‘if 
Lancelot rescue us not, there is none other that can deliver us out 
of the hands of Turquine.’ 

Now, as Lancelot lay sleeping under the tree, there came by 
four queens, and as they looked on his face, they knew that it was 
Sir Lancelot, and they began to strive for him, for each said she 
would have him to be her love. ‘ Nay,’ said Morgan le Fay, ‘ I 
will put an inchantraent upon him, and when he wakes up from 
it, let him choose which of us four he will have.’ So they bare 
him sleeping to the castle Chariot; and on the morn the four 
queens stood before him, and said, ‘ We know thee well that thou 
art Sir Lancelot, King Ban’s son; and well we know that Queen 
Guenevere has tny love; but as now thou must lose her for ever, 
therefore thou must now choose one of us four. I am Morgan le 
Fay, and here is the Queen of North Wales, the Queen of East* 


26 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages* 

land, and the Queen of the Out Isles. Choose which thou wilt 
have; and if thou wilt not choose, in this prison thou shnlt die.* 
Then said Lancelot, ‘ I will have none of you, for ye are all false 
inchantresses: and for Guenevere, I would prove, were I free, 
that she is the truest lady living.’ Then the Queens left him in 
great wrath; but a fair maiden rescued him from their wiles, and 
slie was the daughter of King Bagdemagus. She it was who 
brought him to his armour and his horse, and bade him ride to an 
abbey of white monks, whither she would bring her father to 
him. And even so it came about; and Lancelot promised to aid 
Bagdemagus in a great tourney which was soon to be held. In 
that tourney Lancelot did great things, for he smote down the 
King of Noith Wales and Sir Mador of the Gate, and after him, 
Sir Mordred and Sir Gahalatine; and so was it judged that Bag¬ 
demagus should have the prize. 

Then said Lancelot that he must go seek his brother Lionel; 
and as he journeyed, it so chanced that he came into the same 
forest where he was taken sleeping; and a damsel came, which 
asked him if he would do battle with . Sir Turquine, who had in 
his dungeon threescore and four knights of Arthur’s court. Then 
Lancelot sware to do as she desired ; and presently he saw riding 
towards him a great knight, before whom an armed knight lay 
bound across his horse ; and Lancelot knew him to be Gaheris, 
the brother of Sir Gawaine. Then Lancelot challenged Sir 
Turquine to the battle; and they fought fiercely, until at length 
Turquine promised to free all his prisoners if Lancelot would tell 
him his name, because he was the bravest knight whom he had 
ever met, and like one knight that he hated above all other 
knights. ‘It is well said,’ answered Lancelot; ‘and now tell 
thou me, who is this knight whom thou hatest above all other 
men 1 ’ ‘To say sooth,’ said Turquine, ‘he is Lancelot du Lake, 
who slew my brother Carados; and if ever we meet, one of us 
shall remain dead upon the ground. For his sake I have slain a 
hundred good knights, and have scores in prison, and all these 
will I set free, so thou be not Lancelot.’ ‘Well, said Sir Lance¬ 
lot, ‘ if, thou wilt know it, I am Lancelot du Lake, the son of 
King Ban of Benwick, and very knight of the Bound Table.’ 
‘ Ah ! ’ said Turquine, ‘ thou art most welcome to me of all men, 
for we part not till one of us be dead.’ But for all his large 
words, Turquine was smitten to death by Lancelot, who rescued 
Gaheris, and bade him go to Turquine’s castle and give his greet¬ 
ing to Arthur’s knights who lay in the dungeon, charging them 
to take such stuff as they might find, and then to go to the court 


A rthur arid his Knights. 2 7 

and await his coming about the time of Pentecost. But this they 
would not do, for they said that it would be shame t(/ them if 
they hastened not to his help. 

And once again Lancelot did good service to the daughter of 
Bagdemagus by rescuing her from the hands of Sir Peris of the 
Forest; and after that he asked if she needed aught more at his 
hands. ‘ Nay,’ she said, ‘ at this time. But God guard thee for 
the greatest knight that now lives. But one thing thou lackest 
—that ye will not love some maiden; and it is noised that ye 
love Queen Guenevere, and that she has ordained by inchantment 
that ye shall never love any but her; wherefore many are sad in 
this land, both great and small.’ ‘ Fair maiden,’ said Lancelot, 
^1 may not keep people from saying what it pleaseth them to 
say; but 1 think not to be a wedded man, and I would go on 
my way with my hands clean and my heart pure.’ So they 
parted ; and Lancelot went on to do great things. At the Castle 
of Tintagil, where Uther won Igerne, he slew two giants, and set 
free threescore ladies who had been their prisoners for seven 
years. And after this he rescued Sir Kay from three knights 
who had set upon him, and he made them yield themselves to Sir 
Kay, and swear to go and tell Queen Guenevere that Sir Kay 
sent them to be her prisoners. 

In the night, as Sir Kay and he slept together, Lancelot rose 
quietly and put on Sir Kay’s armour and shield, and so went on 
his way; and soon he had to fight with other two knights, who 
took him to be Sir Kay. These also he overcame, and he charged 
them to yield themselves to Queen Guenevere at Whitsuntide, 
and to say that Sir Kay had sent them unto her. After this, a 
maiden, whose brother was sore wounded, besought him to go 
into the Chapel Perilous, and thence bring a sword and a cloth, 
which should stanch his bleeding, for in no other wise could it 
be stanched. So Lancelot went into the chapel, and within he 
saw a dim lamp burning, and before the altar a corpse covered 
with a cloth of silk. As he stooped down to cut off a piece of 
this cloth, the earth quaked, so that Lancelot was afraid; but he 
seized the fair sword which lay by the body, and hastened out of 
the chapel. As he passed out, a fair damsel bade him leave the 
sword, if he would not die. ‘It may not be,’ said Lancelot. 

‘ Thou hast done well,’ answered the maiden, ‘ for if thou hadst 
left the sword, thou shouldest never see Queen Guenevere. And 
now, I pray thee, kiss me but once.’ ‘God forbid,’ said Sir 
Lancelot. ‘ Well,’ said the damsel, ‘ hadst thou kissed me, thy 
days had been done; but now have I lost all my labour, for I 


28 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 


ordained this chapel for thy sake and for Sir Gawaine • and once 
1 had Sir Gawaine within my power, when he fought with Sir 
Gilbert, the dead knight, whose sword thou hast taken. But 
know now. Sir Lancelot, that I have loved thee these seven years 
past; yet may no woman have thy love but Guenevere. Still, if 
I could not have thee alive, I should have no greater joy in this 
world than to have thy body dead. Then would I have em¬ 
balmed and kept it all my days; and daily should I have kissed 
thee in spite of Guenevere.’ ‘ God preserve me from your subtle 
crafts,’ said Lancelot. And so he went his way; and the maiden 
pined away in her sorrow till, on the fourteenth night, she died; 
and her name was Hellawes, the sorceress, the lady of the castle 
Nigramous. Presently there met him the damsel who had prayed 
him to stanch the bleeding of her brother. Sir Meliot, and when 
she saw him, she clapped her hands for joy. Then they went 
together to the castle where the bleeding knight lay; and when 
Lancelot touched his wounds with Sir Gilbert’s sword, and wiped 
them with the cloth that he took from Gilbert’s body. Sir Meliot 
rose up hale and strong as ever he had been in his life, and 
Lancelot charged him to show himself at Arthur’s court on the 
feast of Pentecost. But Lancelot himself yet went on his way, 
doing brave and knightly deeds; and sometimes they for whom 
he wrought them were worthy, but sometimes they were trea¬ 
cherous, and sought to trap him by his goodness and his courtesy. 

At the last he journeyed back to Arthur’s court, and there 
were all those whom he had charged to go and yield themselves 
at the feet of Guenevere, and there also were Gawaine and 
Gaheris, and all praised Lancelot for his great exploits. ‘ Yea,’ 
said Sir Kay, ‘ Lancelot took my harness and left me his; and so 
I rode in peace, and none had aught to say to me, because they 
took me for Sir Lancelot.’ And Sir Meliot also told his tale. 
Then was there great joy and gladness: and at that feast Sit 
Belleus was made a knight of the Round Table. 


CHAPTER VIL 

THE STORY OF SIR GARETH OF ORKNEY. 

King Arthur was holding high festival in the Castle of Kinken- 
adon upon the sands that marched nigh Wales, when there came 
into the hall two men on whose shoulders there leaned the fairest 



29 


A rthur and his Knights. 

and goodliest youth that ever man saw, as tliough of himself lie 
could not walk. When they reached the dais, the youth prayed 
God to bless the king and all his fair fellowship of the Eouiid 
Table. ‘ And now I pray thee, grant me three gifts, which I seek 
not against reason : the one of these I will ask thee now, and the 
other two when twelve months have come roimd.^ ‘ Ask,’ said 
Arthur, ‘ and ye shall have your asking.’ ‘ Then,’ answered the 
youth, ‘ I will that ye give me meat and drink for a year.’ And 
though the king hade him ask something better, yet would he 
not: and Arthur said, ‘Meat and drink enough shalt thou have; 
for that I never stinted to friend or foe. But what is thy name V 
‘ That T cannot tell,’ said the youth. ‘ Strange,’ said the king, 

‘ that thou shouldest not know thy name, and thou the goodliest 
youth that ever mine eyes have seen.’ Then the king gave him 
in charge to Sir Kay, who scorned him because he had asked so 
mean a gift. ‘ Since he has no name,’ said Sir Kay, ‘ I will call 
him Pretty-hands, and into the kitchen shall he go, and there 
have fat brose, so that at the year’s end he shall be fat as a pork 
hog.’ So the youth went to the hall door and sat down among 
boys and lads, and there he ate sadly. Yea though Sir Gawaine 
and Sir Lancelot would have him come and drink wine in their 
chamber, yet would he not stir from the place where Sir Kay 
had put him. So was it throughout the twelve months, that he 
displeased not man nor child by reason of his meekness and his 
mildness. Only when there was any jousting of knights, he 
hastened to see it; and when there were any sports, none might 
cast bar nor stone, as he did, by two yards. 

At Whitsuntide the king again made high festival; and a 
maiden came beseeching him to succour a lady who was besieged 
in her castle by the Eed Knight of the Eed Lawns. But she 
would not tell the lady’s name: and because she would not, the 
king said that none of his knights that were there should go to 
help her with his will. Then came the youth and spake to the 
king. ‘ I have had one gift: and now I ask the other two, as 
thou didst promise. First, let me have this adventure; and next, 
bid Sir Lancelot make me knight, for of him alone will I take 
knighthood.’ ‘ All this shall be done,’said the king. ‘Fie,’said 
the maiden, ‘am I to have only your kitchen-knave 1 ’ and she 
took her horse and went away wroth. 

At that moment came one who said to the youth that a dwarf 
was come with his armour and horse, and with all manner of rich 
things. So the youth mounted his horse, and rode after the 
damseL Then said Sir Kay, ‘ I will go and see how the kitchen- 


30 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

hoy fares but when the youth saw him coming, he turned and 
bade Sir Kay beware. But Sir Kay put his spear in rest; and 
when the youth saw this, he rushed towards him, and thrusting 
aside the spear with his sword, smote down Sir Kay, and took 
his shield and his spear, and rode away. But soon Sir Lancelot 
overtook him, and they jousted together so fiercely, till at the last 
Lancelot said, ‘ Fight not so sore : our quarrel is not so great but 
we may fairly leave off.’ ‘ That is true,’ answered the youth, 
‘ but it does me good to feel your might, nor was it I who chal¬ 
lenged the fight; and now I pray you give me the order of 
knighthood.’ But Lancelot said that he could do so only if the 
youth told him his name. ‘ Well, then, if you swear not to dis¬ 
cover me, I will tell thee. My name is Gareth, and I am brother 
to Sir Gawaine.’ Then was Lancelot right glad and forthwith 
made him a knight; and the youth rode away. But when he 
overtook the damsel, she reviled him, and told him that his 
clothes were full of the grease and tallow of the king’s kitchen, 
and that he was but a mover of spits and a ladle-washer. ‘ Say 
to me what thou wilt,’ answered the youth, ‘ I go not from thee 
till I have done that which I sware to do.’ And they had not 
gone far before a man, who was fleeing away with all his might, 
prayed him to give him aid against six thieves, who were in the 
wood, and the youth slew them all. But none the less the damsel 
reviled him, and said that he had overpowered them not by 
bravery but by chance, nor would she sit at the same board with 
him in the house of the man whom he had rescued from the 
thieves. 

On the morrow the youth set forth again with the damsel and 
came to a ford where on the other side stood two knights to bar 
the passage. ‘ Wilt thou match yonder knights % ’ asked the 
maiden. ‘ Yea,’ answ’^ered the youth, ‘ though they were not two 
but eight; ’ and so it came to pass that in the fight which fol¬ 
lowed one was drowned and the other cloven to the chin. But 
the maiden said that he had won all by chance, for the horse of 
the first knight stumbled, and the second knight fell by mishap. 

‘ Say what thou wilt,’ answered the youth, ‘ 1 heed it not, so I 
may win your lady.’ Onwards thus they went, the damsel re¬ 
viling, till they came to a black lawn on which a black banner 
hung upon a black hawthorn, and on the other side a black 
shield; and near it stood a black spear and a black horse covered 
wdth silk, and a black stone hard by, and by it sat, all armed, 
the Knight of the Black Lawn, who asked the damsel if she had 
brought a knight of King Arthur to be her champion. * Nay, 


Arthur and his Knights, 31 

she said, * this is but a kitchen knave, of whom I cannot be rid; 
and I have seen him this day slay two men by mischance, and 
not by prowess.’ Then said the black knight, ‘ I will but put 
^ him down on one foot, and take his horse and his harness, for it 
were shame to do him any more harm.’ But the youth spake in 
few words and said, ‘ Sir Knight, thou art full liberal of my 
horse and harness; but neither shalt thou have of me, unless 
thou winnest them with thy hands. Let us see then what thou 
canst do.’ ‘ Is it even so 1 ’ said the black knight: ‘ leave then 
thy lady, for it is not seemly that a kitchen page should ride by 
her side.’ ‘ Thou liest,’ said the youth, ‘ I am of higher lineage 
than thou art, and I will prove it on thy body.’ Then they came 
together and fought fiercely till the youth was sorely hurt, but at 
the last the black knight fell down in a swoon and died; and the 
youth put on his armour and took his horse, and rode after the 
damsel. But still she urged him to flee away, for all that ho 
had done had been done by chance: and still the youth sware 
that he would not leave her till he should see the uttermost of 
that journey. 

Next, there came towards them a knight clad in green, who 
asked the maiden if she had brought with her his brother, the 
black knight. ‘ Nay,’ she said, ‘ this kitchen-page has slain thy 
brother; but it was by mischance.’ ‘ Ah! traitor,’ said the green 
knight, ‘ thou shalt die for thus shamefully slaying my brother.’ 

T defy thee,’ answered the youth ; ‘ and I tell thee that I slew 
him knightly.’ So, as he had fought before with the black 
knight, he fought now with the green knight, until he had un¬ 
horsed him, and the green knight besought his mercy. ‘ No 
mercy will I give thee,’ said the youth, ‘ unless the maiden who 
came with me pray me to save thy life.’ But she would not, for 
she thought scorn to ask a boon of a kitchen-page; and the green 
knight prayed again, and sware to bring thirty knights to do the 
youth service. ‘ It will avail thee nought,’ said the youth, ‘ if 
this maiden ask not for thy life; ’ and he made as though he were 
about to slay him. Then said the damsel, surlily, ‘ Slay him not, 
for if thou dost thou shalt repent it.’ With this was the youth 
satisfied, and he released the green knight, who kneeled to him 
and did him homage; and all three rode to the green knight’s 
house, where they lodged that night. 

On the morn they arose, and after mass the green knight led 
them through the forest, and he sware that he and his thirty 
knights should be ever ready at the youth’s bidding. ‘ See then,’ 
said the youth, ‘ that ye go and yield yourselves to King Arthui? 


32 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

when I call upon you.’ But the maiden was churlish and sullen 
still, and she warned the youth that he would never be able to 
go through the perilous pass. ‘ Well then,’ he answered, ‘ let 
him who"fears flee.’ Presently they saw a tower white as snow, • 
and under the tower was a fair meadow; and when the lord of 
the castle saw them coming, he thought that it was his brother, 
tlie black knight. So he cried aloud, ‘Brother, what do ye in 
these marches 1 ’ ‘ Nay,’ said the maiden, ‘ it is not he. He has 

slain thy brother; but he did it by chance, for he is but a 
kitchen-knave; he has also overcome thy brother the green 
knight. But now thou mayest be revenged on him, for I can 
nevei be quit of him.’ Then was there again a fierce strife, in 
which the red knight sorely wounded the youth, so that the 
blood came from him in streams; but at the last he, too, was 
struck down to the earth, and prayed for mercy. ‘ No mercy 
shalt thou have, if this damsel ask not thy life.’ But when he 
made as though he would slay him, the maiden charged him not 
to do it, for he was a noble knight. And the youth bade the 
red knight stand up and thank the damsel for his life. Then the 
red knight took them into his castle, and when the night was 
come he ordered sixty knights to keep watch round the youth, 
and guard him against treason, and with these knights he sware 
to serve him always. And again the youth charged them to be 
ready to go and yield themselves to King Arthur when he should 
bid them. 

But as they rode on, still the damsel reviled him; and she 
warned him that they would soon come to the lands of a knight 
who should pay him all his wages, for he was the man of most 
worship in the world except King Arthur. ‘ It is well,’ answered 
the youth, ‘ for the more he is of worship, the more shall be my 
worship if I conquer him.’ Soon they saw before them a beauti¬ 
ful city, and before the city a fair plain full of pavilions richly 
dight; and the maiden said, ‘These are the pavilions of Sir 
Persant of Inde, and about him are five hundred knights and 
gentlemen-at-arms.’ ‘ It may be,’ answered the youth ; ‘ but if 
he be a knight brave and courteous, as you say, he will not set 
upon me with all his men or with his five hundred knights : and 
if there come against me but one at a time, I shall not fail while 
my life lasts.’ ‘ Fie,’ said the maiden, ‘ that such a knave as thou 
shouldest boast thus.’ ‘ It boots not to talk,’ he answered ; ‘ let 
him come and do his worst.’ Then said the damsel, ‘ I marvel 
■who thou mayest be, for never has a woman ruled a knight so 
fully and shamefully as I have ruled you, and yet hast thou ever 


Arthur and his Knights. 33 

treated me courteously; nor could any do this who came not of 
gentle blood.’ 

‘ Maiden,’ said the youth, ‘ a knight is worth little who cannot 
suffer a damsel. I took no heed to thy words, but the more they 
angered me, the more I wreaked my wrath on those with whom 
I had to do. And so it is that all thy foul words have furthered 
me in my battles.’ ‘ Alas!’ she said, ‘ forgive me for all that t 
have said or done amiss against thee.’ ‘ With all my heart,’ he 
answered ; ‘ for, to say sooth, all thy evil words pleased me.’ 
Even so it came to pass in the battle with Sir Persant that the 
youth was conqueror ; and the damsel was no more loth to pray 
for his life; and Sir Persant said, ‘Well, I wot now that thou 
didst slay my brother, the black knight, and didst overcome my 
brethren, the green and the red knights. And now shalt thou have 
homage and service of me and of my hundred knights.’ That 
night they lodged with Sir Persant, who asked the maiden 
whither she was leading her knight, and she said that he was 
going to the help of her sister, who was besieged in her castle. 
‘ Ah,’ said Persant, ‘ he who besieges her is the knight of the Red 
Lawns, a man without mercy, and with the strength of seven men. 
God save you from that knight, for he doth great wrong to that 
lady, who is one of the fairest ladies of the world, and your 
damsel is, I think, her sister. Is not your name LinetP ‘It 
is,’ she said, ‘ and my sister’s name is Liones.’ Then Sir 
Persant told the youth that the Knight of the Red Lawns might 
have won the lady many times, but that he kept up the siege 
because he wished to do battle with some great knight, such as 
Sir L&^ncelot, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Lamorak, or Sir Gawaine. 
‘ God speed you well,’ said Sir Persant; ‘ for if thou canst match 
the red knight, ye shall be called the fourth knight of the world.’ 
Then said the youth, ‘ I would fain be of good fame; but my 
father was a noble man, and, so that ye will keep it close, I will 
tell you who I am.’ ‘ Nay, we will not discover you,’ said they, 
‘ till ye bid us.’ ‘ Truly, then, I am Gareth of Orkney, the son 
of King Lot and of King Arthur’s sister; and my brothers are 
Sir Gawaine, and Sir Agravine, and Sir Gaheris, and I am the 
youngest of them all. Yet neither Arthur nor Gawaine know 
who 1 am.’ 

Then went a dwarf to the lady who was besieged, and brought 
the tidings that the youth was coming to her aid, and told her 
all his story from the hour when he was made a knight by 
Lancelot; and the lady rejoiced at the news, and bade the dwaii 

0 


34 Popular Roryux>nces of the Middle Ages. 

go to an hermitage hard by, and make ready food and wine fot 
the youth, that he might be refreslied. 

As the dwarf went back from the hermitage, he met the 
Knight of the Red Lawns, who asked him whence he came : and 
the dwarf said that he had been with Dame Liones’ sister, who had 
brought a knight with her. ‘ Then is her labour but lost,’ said the 
knight; ‘ for were it Lancelot, Tristram, Lamorak, or Gawaine, 
I think myself good enough for them all. Is he, then, one of 
these four?’ ‘Nay, he is not,’ said the dwarf, ‘but he hath 
passed all the perilous passages, and conquered all with whom he 
has fought.’ ‘ What is his name R asked the red knight. ‘ That 
will I not tell you,’ said the dwarf, ‘ but Sir Kay in scorn called 
him Prettyhands.’ ‘ I care not,’ answered the knight: ‘ who¬ 
soever he be, he shall die a shameful death.’ 

On the morrow, the youth arid the maiden Linet rode after 
mass through a fair forest, and came to a plain with a goodly 
castle and many pavilions and tents, and in one part were great 
trees on which hung the bodies of nearly forty knights. ‘ What 
means thisP asked the youth. ‘ These are the knights,’ answered 
Linet, ‘ who sought to deliver my sister from the Knight of the 
Red Lawns; for all who are overcome by him die by a shameful 
death.’ Then fast by a sycamore tree he saw a horn hanging, of 
elephant’s bone. ‘ Blow not the horn,’ said Linet, ‘ to challenge 
the red knight till it be noon, for till that hour his might 
increaseth, so that, as men say, he has the strength of seven men. 
But the youth, heeding her not, blew the horn so eagerly that all 
the castle rang again; and the Red Knight of the Red Lawns 
armed him hastily, and blood red was his armour and his shield, 
and his men brought him a red spear and a red steed. 

‘Be glad and light now,’ said Linet to the youth, ‘for yonder 
is your deadly foe, and at yonder window is my sister Liones.’ 
When the youth looked up and saw her fair face as she looked 
down kindly upon him, he said he could ask for no better quarrel, 
and that she alone should be his lady always. 

Then was fought a fight more fierce than any that had gone 
before. From prime to noontide, h‘om noontide to evensong, 
their blows fell thick as hail, till all their bodies were gashed and 
men might see their bare flesh, as the blood streamed out in 
rivers. 

Then at last they stopped to rest, for their hands were too 
weary to strike more; and as they bared their faces to the cool 
wind, the youth saw Liones looking down upon him lovingly 
from her window, so that his heart waxed light and merry, and 


Arthur and his Knights, 35 

he rose up to do battle again to the death. At the first the red 
knight had the best, but in the end the youth smote the sword 
out of his hand, and then he unlaced his helmet, as though he 
were about to slay him. Then the red knight yielded him to the 
youth’s mercy; but Sir Gareth remembered the knights whose 
bodies he had seen hanging on the trees, and he said that ho 
could show no mercy to murderers. ‘ Nay, but hear me,’ said the 
reil knight. ‘The lady of my love had her brother slain, she 
said, by Lancelot or Gawaine; and she bade me promise, if 1 
loved her, to put to a shameful death such knights as I might 
conquer.’ Then came others also and prayed for the red knight’s 
life; and to those Sir Gareth said, ‘ 1 am loth to slay this 
knight, though he has done shamefully; but he shall have his 
life if he will go first and yield him to the lady of the castle, 
begging her forgiveness, and thence go to King Arthur’s court 
and ask mercy for all the evil that he has wrought.’ Even so it came 
to pass; and when the red knight yielded himself to Arthur and 
Gawaine, they marvelled who this youth might be wh) had borne 
himself so knightly. ‘ Marvel not,’ said Lancelot, ‘ he shall do 
more wondrous things yet than these.’ ‘ Thou knowest then his 
name and whence he comes,’ said Arthur. ‘ Yea, I do; but he 
charged me not to discover him until he bade me do so.’ 

Now after the battle Sir Gareth hastened to the castle, for he 
was eager to talk with Liones; but when he drew near to the 
gate, he found the drawbridge pulled up and the port closed; 
and looking up he saw Liones at a window, who said, ‘ Go thy 
way. Sir Knight, for I may not wholly give thee my love, till 
thou have a place among the number of the worthy knights. 
When twelve months have passed thou shalt hear new tidings.’ 
‘Alas!’ said Gareth, ‘I have served you well, and I weened not 
to be thus treated.’ ‘ Nay,’ said Liones, ‘ be not hasty nor 
wroth. Thy toil and thy love shall not be lost. Wherefore go 
on thy way with a merry heart, and trust me that ever I shall 
love thee and none other.’ Then Gareth rode away, but all his 
strength was gone for very sorrow; and that night he was lodged 
in a poor man’s house, and as the hours wore on, still he writhed 
for the love of the lady of the castle. 

On the morrow he arose and rode to a broad-water, where 
three hours before noon he lay down to rest with his head on 
his shield, when he had given his horse to the dwarf, bidding 
him watch beside him. Meanwhile, Liones had called to her 
brother. Sir Gringamore, and charged him to go and bring away 
Sir Gareth’s dwarf, for she said, ‘ IJntil 1 know his name and of 


36 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

what kindred he is come, I shall never be merry at heart.* So 
Sir Gringarnore hasted and finding the dwarf watching by his 
master’s side, he rode away with him as fast as he could to his 
own castle. But the dwarf, as he went, cried out aloud to Sir 
Gareth, and Gareth awaking saw Sir Gringarnore hastening away. 
Then over hill and dale, through marshes and fields he rode 
furiously after Gringarnore, who had reached his castle and 
brought the dwarf before Liones. Then the lady asked him 
straightway of his master’s name and kindred, and the dwarf 
made not much ado to tell her all, and then he prayed to be 
sent back to his lord again. But even as he spake. Sir Gareth came 
in at the gate with his drawn sword in his hand, and crying, 

‘ Thou traitor, set free my dwarf, or I shall do thee all the harm 
that I can.’ Then would there have been hot words and hard 
blows, if Liones had not stayed her brother, and told him that 
now she sought for nought else but to speak with the knight who 
had rescued her out of the hand of the Knight of the Red La\/ns. 
So Sir Gringarnore went to Gareth and cried him mercy, and led 
him by the hand into the hall where his own wife was ; and 
thither presently came Liones, and the youth could not take his 
eyes off her as she sat before him, ‘AVould,’ he said, ‘that the 
lady of the Perilous Castle were so fair as she.’ So ever, as the 
hours wore on, his love for her waxed greater and greater ; and 
Sir Gringarnore, seeing it, told his sister that even if she was 
better than she was she would be well bestowed upon him, and 
after he had talked with her awhile, he went to Sir Gareth and 
said, ‘ My sister is yours, for she loves you as well as ye do her, 
and better if better may be.’ Then answered Gareth, ‘ There 
lives not a gladder man than Iand he went to Liones and kissed 
her many times, and she promised to love him and none other all 
the days of her life, and told him withal that she was the lady for 
wlioni he had done battle before the Perilous Castle. 

In the night, as Gareth lay down to sleep in the hall, he saw 
coming towards him a knight with a grim countenance, haying 
a long battle-axe in his hand ; and leaping from his couch, he 
rushed at him with his drawn sword, and after a short while 
smote off his head from his body ; but he was bleeding so that 
he swooned away, and the cry of Liones who found him thus 
called forth Sir Gringarnore, who asked how these things had 
been done. ‘ I know not,’ said Liones, ‘ for it was not done by 
me nor by mine assent.’ Likewise said her brother, and they 
strove to stanch his bleeding as well as they might. Then came 
the damsel Liuet, and taking up the head that had been smitten 


37 


A7'tJmr and his K^iights. 

off anointed it with an ointment; and when she placed it on the 
neck, the knight leaped up wliole as he had been, and Linet put 
him in her chamber. Then said Gareth to her, ‘ I weened not 
that ye would thus deal by me;' but she said, ‘ Tarry yet 
awhile, and thou shalt see that all which I have done shall be for 
your honour and worship.’ 

On the next night Gareth saw coming to him again the man 
whose head he had cut off, and there was again a fierce strife 
between them, until Gareth smote off his head again ; and this 
time he hewed it in pieces, and flung them out of a window into 
the castle ditch. But so had he strained himself that his old 
wound bled afresh, and he had swooned away when Liones and 
her brother came to him. Then as they strove to stanch the 
bleeding, Linet gathered the pieces of the head from the ditch of 
the castle, and anointed them as she had done before, and when 
she had put them together the knight was alive again. ‘ I have 
not deserved this at thy hands,’ said Sir Gareth. ‘ Tarry yet a 
little,’ answered the maiden, ‘ and thou shalt see that I have done 
all for thy honour and worship.’ 

At Pentecost, when Arthur made high festival, there came the 
green knight with fifty knights and yielded him to the king. 
After him came the red knight, and did homage with sixty 
knights, and after him the blue knight with an hundred knights , 
ind these three told how they had been overcome by a knight 
named Prettyhands. ‘ I marvel,’ said the king, ‘ what knight 
that is, and of what lineage he is come ; for he was with me a 
year, and but poorly was he fostered, and Sir Kay called him 
Prettyhands in scorn.’ But even as he spake Sir Lancelot came 
to tell him that there stood without a goodly lord with six 
hundred knights, and the king went to them and asked their 
errand. ‘ Sir,’ said the knight, ‘ I am Sir Ironside, the Eed 
Knight of the Eed Lawns, and a knight named Prettyhands has 
charged me to yield myself to you ; and never until he came had 
knight been able to withstand me these thirty winters.’ ‘ Ye 
are welcome,’ said the king, ‘for I trust to have thee now as 
much my friend as thou hast been my foe, and if thou wilt hold 
of me 1 will make thee a knight of the Eound Table : but then 
thou must be no more a murderer.’ ‘ Yea,’ s&id Sir Ironside, 
‘ that I have sworn already to Sir Prettyhands, and now must I 
pray forgiveness from Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawaine.’ ‘ God for¬ 
give you,’ said they, ‘ as we do ; and we pray you tell us where 
we may find Sir Prettyhands.’ ‘ That I cannot tell,’ said Sir Iron¬ 
side. Then as all spake in his praise, the king said, ‘ I shall do 


38 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

you honour for the love of Sir Prettyhands, and as soon as I meet 
with him, 1 will make you all upon one day knights of the Eound 
Table.’ Then turning to Sir Persant, the red knight, he said, ‘I 
marvel that I hear not of the black knight, thy brother,’ and they 
told the king how he had been slain by Sir Prettyhands. 

Now while yet they kept the feast there came the Queen of 
Orkney, Arthur’s sister ; and her three sons, Gawaine, Agravaine, 
and Gaheris, knelt at her feet to ask her blessing. But turning 
to the king she asked, ‘ What have you done with my youngest 
son, Gareth 1 He was amongst you for a year, and ye made him 
a kitchen knave, which is shame to you all.’ ‘ Alas 1 mother,’ 
said Sir Gawaine, ‘ I knew him not.’ ‘ Nor I,’ said the king, 

‘ but he is now a worshipful knight as is any now living, and I 
shall never be glad till 1 may find him. But sister, ye might 
have warned me of his coming, and then if I had not done well 
to him ye might have blamed me.’ So the king told her all 
his story, and his sister said that she had sent him forth right 
well-armed and horsed, and with plenty of gold and silver. ‘ We 
saw none of this,’ said Arthur, ‘ till the day when he went away, 
and then some knights told me that a dwarf had come bringing 
him a goodly horse and splendid armour, and we marvelled all 
whence those riches might come.’ Then said the Queen of Orkney, 

‘ I marvel that Sir Kay did mock and scorn him, and yet he 
named him more righteously than he thought, for, I dare say it, 
he is a man as fair-handed and well disposed as any living.’ 
‘ Sister,’ said Arthur, ‘ let all this pass, and be merry, for he is 
proved to be a right true man, and that is my joy.’ 

Then would Gawaine and his brethren go forth to seek their 
brother, but Sir Lancelot stayed them and counselled the king to 
send messengers to the Perilous Castle, bidding Liones come to 
the court in all haste. When Sir Gareth heard this he said to 
Liones, ‘ That is because of me, and I would have you now advise 
the king that he hold a tourney on the feast of the Assumption 
cf our Lady, and to say what knight there proves him best shall 
wed you and have your land.’ Even so Liones gave this counsel 
to the king, and with all care they made ready for the tourna¬ 
ment. Then at Linet’s bidding Liones sent for Sir Persant of 
Inde, and for Sir Ironside, to come with all their knights, and 
through many countries far and wide was the cry made that men 
should come to the Perilous Castle beside the isle of Avilion, and 
there choose wfiiich side they should take in the tourney. So 
were gathered together kings and princes, barons and chiefs, and 
noble knights from England and from Scotland, from Brittany 


Arthur and his Knights, 39 

and Wales, and Gareth prayed Liones and her knights that 
there should none of them tell his name. Then said Liones to 
Gareth, * I will lend you a ring which I pray you give back to 
me when the tournament is done, for it increaseth my beauty 
much more than it is of itself; and its virtue is that that which 
is green it will turn to red, red to green, blue to white, and 
white to blue, and so with all manner of colours. Moreover, he 
who bears this ring shall lose no blood.’ 

So when the day was come, and the mass was done, the Ixiralds 
blew the trumpets, and the knights came together in the fight, 
and many knightly deeds w’ere done on both sides. But of Sif 
Gareth all men marvelled who he might be that one time seemed 
green and another time blue or red, and before whom every 
knight went down. ‘ Truly,’ said King Arthur to Lancelot, ‘ that 
knight with the many colours is a good knight. Go thou and 
encounter with him.’ ‘ Nay,’ said Lancelot, ‘ when a good knight 
has had so great labour, it is no good deed to rob him of his 
worship; and it may be that he is best beloved by the Lady of 
the Perilous Castle among all that be here. Therefore, as for me, 
this day he shall have the honour, for though it lay in my power 
to put him from it, I would not.’ 

At the last, when Sir Gareth had wrought wondrously among 
all the knights, he rode out on the one side to drink ; and his 
dwarf said, ‘ Give me your ring, that you lose it not while you 
drink.’ So he left the ring with the dwarf, who knew now that 
Sir Gareth would be made known ; for now, wherever he was seen, 
he was in yellow colours which changed not. And at Arthur’s 
bidding the herahls came and saw written in letters of gold about 
his helm, ‘ This helm is Sir Gareth’s of Orkney : ’ and they cried 
aloud, that all might hear, ‘ This is Sir Gareth, of Orkney, King 
Lot’s son.’ When Gareth saw that he was discovered, he doubled 
liis strokes and smote down his brother Sir Gawaine. ‘ 0, brother,’ 
said Gawaine, ‘ I thought not you would strike me.’ Then Gareth 
gat him out of the j)ress, and bade the dwarf yield up the ring, 
that so men might know him no more. So he took it, and then 
they all wist not what had become of him; and afterwards he 
took counsel with the dwarf, who bade him send the ring back 
to Liones, and say that he would come when he might. With 
this message the dwarf hastened to the lady, while Sir Gareth 
rode amid thunder and rain through a dark forest until he camo 
to a castle, and prayed the porter to let him in, for he was sore 
wearied. Then the porter went to tell the duchess that a knight 
of Arthur’s court prayed for lodging, and Jiie duchess rose up and 


40 Popular Roma^ices of the Middle Ages. 

came to Gareth and said, ^ Sir Knight, the lord of this castle 
loves not King Arthur nor his. court; and therefore it were better 
thou shouldst not come within this castle. If thou dost come, it 
must be under pledge that thou wilt yield thyself to him in what¬ 
soever place thou mayest meet him.’ So Gareth promised, and 
then she let the drawbridge down, and there he rested that 
night. 

On the morrow he rode to a mountain where a knight named 
Eendelaine sought to bar his way, and Gareth smote him so that 
Bendelaine rode to his own castle and there died. But when 
Gareth drew near to it, there came out twenty of Bendelaine’s men, 
who slew Gareth’s horse when they saw that they could overcome 
him in no other way. But when he was on foot, they prevailed 
none the more against him. At the last, when he had well nigh 
slain them, he took the horse of one of them, and rode till he 
came to a castle where he heard great cries and moaning of 
women ; and he asked a page, who passed by, what these sounds 
might mean. And the page said that there lived here a pitiless 
knight who had shut up thirty ladies in his dungeons. This 
knight Sir Gareth fought with and slew; and going into the 
castle, he set the ladies free. On the morrow morn, w^hen he 
went to mass, he saw the thirty ladies kneeling upon divers 
tombs, and he knew that in those tombs lay their lords, whom 
the pitiless knight had slain. ‘ Then he charged them to go at the 
next feast of Pentecost to the court of King Arthur and say that 
Sir Gareth had sent them thither. After this he went his way, 
and met the Duke de la Bowse, the husband of the duchess in 
whose castle he had lodged, and would have yielded himself to 
him. But the duke would have him fight; and Gareth smote 
him, and conquered him, and charged him to go and yield him¬ 
self to King Arthur; and when the duke was gone, there came 
another knight with whom he fought, and so fierce was the strife 
that the blood ran in streams upon the ground. At last there 
came the maiden Linet, and when she saw them, 'she cried aloud, 

‘ Sir Gawaine, Sir Gawaine, leave thy fighting with thy brother 
Sir Gareth.’ So soon as he heard these words, he threw away his 
sword, and running to his brother took him in his arms and 
craved his mercy. Then they embraced each the other, and 
wept a great while before they could speak : and Sir Gawaine be¬ 
sought Linet to go to the king, and tell him in what plight he 
was. And she found Arthur but two or three miles off, and the 
king hastened on his palfrey : but when he drew nigh to the 
place where Gawaine and Gareth were seated on the hill side, he 


41 


Arthitr and his Knights, 

songKt to speak but could not, and he sank down in a swoon for 
gladness. So they hastened to their uncle and bade him be of 
good comfort; and the king was right glad, but withal he wept 
as he had been a child. And after him came Arthur’s sister, 
their mother, and she too swooned away for gladness. There 
they tarried for eight days till the wounds of Ga^vaine and Gareth 
were healed. Tlien said Arthur to Linet, ‘ Why comes not thy 
sister to see a knight who hath loved her so 'well and wrought so 
much for her ? ’ And Linet said, ‘ She knows not that he is here.' 
Then the king bade her go and charge Liones to come straight¬ 
way ; and when she was come, he asked Gareth whether he would 
have her for his wife. ‘ Yea,’ said Gareth, ‘ I love her above all 
women living.’ And of Gareth Liones said, ‘ He is my first love, 
and he shall be my last.’ So was it agreed that they should be 
married on the coming Michaelmas at Kinkenadon by the sea; 
and Gareth sent his summons to all the knights and ladies whom 
he had conquered or rescued, that they should be on his marriage- 
day at Kinkenadon on the sands. So upon Michaelmas-day, they 
were wedded by the Bishop of Canterbury, and on the same day 
Gaheris wedded the damsel Linet, and Agravaine married Dame 
Laurel : and at the high feast which followed Arthur made Sir 
Persant of Inde and his two brothers, and the Red Knight of the 
Red Lawns, and the Duke de la Rowse, knights of the Round 
Table. But when the Jousts were done. Sir Lamorak and Sir 
Tristram departed suddenly, and at this the king and his fellows 
w ere sore displeased. 


CHAPTER Till 

THE HISTORY OF SIR TRISTRAM. 

Among the kings who held their lands of Arthur was Meliodas, 
King of Liones, who had a meek and gentle wife named Elizabeth. 
But there was another lady who loved him, and one day when 
he was hunting she lured him to chase a hart by himself alone, 
till he came to a castle where she made him prisoner. Sore was 
the o-rief of Elizabeth when her lord came not back, and she went 
forth to search for him through the dark forest, and there was 
her child born, and then she knew that she must die. So as her 
6ti eno-th failed her, she bade the woman who was with her to 



42 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

cany the child to the king. * Let him call it Tristram/ she said; 
‘ for he is the child of sorrow. Ah, my child ! as thou hast 
brought so much woe at thy birth, thou art full likely to be a 
manly man in thine age. But Merlin rescued King Meliodas 
from his prison, and when he came home there he found the child 
of sorrow, and they told him that the fair and gentle lady, his 
wife, was dead. For seven years the king abode lonely in his 
grief, and then he married the daughter of Howel, the King of 
Brittany, and when this queen saw her children around her she 
hated Tristram, and placed poison in a silver cnp that the boy 
might drink it and die. But her eldest son spied the cup, and 
he drank of it and straightway fell dead. Yet she put more 
poison in the cup; and when King Meliodas came in and would 
have drunk the wine, she dashed the cup from his hand. ‘ Ah, 
traitress,’ said the king, for he remembered that her son had 
fallen dead suddenly, ‘ tell me what manner of drink this is, or I 
will slay thee.’ So she told him all, and she was judged to be 
burnt. But when they tied her to the stake, Tristram besought 
his father for a boon. ‘ What wouldst thou have % ’ asked the 
king. ‘The life of the queen,’ answered Tristram. ‘Nay,’ said 
the king, ‘ that is not rightly asked, and chiefly for thy sake she 
ought to die.’ Nevertheless, Tristram prayed yet again for her 
life, and the king gave word that it should be as he desired, but 
he Avould 110 more have Tristram abide at his court. So he sent 
him to France for seven years, and at the end of that time the 
boy came back again to his home. There he learnt to be a harper 
])assing all other harpers that ever lived; and more than all 
others he had skill in hunting and hawking, and all the names 
that are for those sports were made by him. 

Now it came to pass that the King of Ireland sent a messenger 
to King Mark of Cornwall to ask truage for his kingdom. And 
King Mark said, ‘ 1 will pay trr.age no more: if it please your 
master let him send a knight to do battle for him, and I will find 
another to do battle for me.’ Then the King of Ireland prayed 
Sir Marhaus, who was a knight of the Bound Table, to fight for 
his cause; and King Mark, when he came, knew not whom he 
might set in array against him, for no knight of the Bound Table 
would fight with him. So as his messengers sped throughout the 
land, Tristram beard the tidings, and having sought leave of his 
father, he hastened to King Mark and sail, ‘I come from King 
Meliodas, who wedded thy sister ; make me a knight and I will 
light with Sir Marhaus.’ 'rhen King Mark welcomed him joy^ 
fully, and though he saw that he was but a youth, he niade him 


43 


Arthur and his Knights, 

a knight, and sent a mevssenger to Sir Marhaiis with letters saying 
a knight would come forth presently to do battle with him, ‘ It 
may well be,’ said Sir Marhaus, ‘ but go back and say I fight with 
none who is not of royal blood.’ When King Mark heard this 
he said to Tristram, ‘Who art thou 1’ and he answered, ‘I am 
.he son of King Meliodas, and the child of thy sister, who died 
in the forest when I was born.’ Then was King Mark right glad, 
and he sent letters to Sir Marliaus to say that it was even the 
son of a king and queen who should do battle with him : and Sir 
JSIarhaus also was well pleased. 

Long they fought together, until at last Sir Marhaus wounded 
Tristram in his side with his spear; and when they had fought 
for many hours more, Tristram waxed stronger and smote with 
his sword through the helmet of Marhaus so fiercely that the 
sword stuck in the helm, and when he pulled it out, a piece of 
the blade was left iii the head of Sir Marhus. Then Sir Marhaus 
fled groaning, and would turn no more to fight with-Sir Tristram; 
and he sailed away to Ireland, but he had not been many days in 
the king’s house when he died, and the piece of Tristram’s sword 
was found in his head, and the queen kept it. 

But Tristram also was sore wounded, for the spear of Marhaus 
was poisoned; and there came a wise woman who said that he 
might never be healed but in the land from which the venom 
came. So Tristram went into the ship with his harp, and came 
to the court of the King of Ireland, and at the gate he harped so 
sweetly that the king sent for him and welcomed him gladly, and 
gave him in trust to his daughter Isolte, to heal hiim And so 
she did ; but with the healing she gave him also her love, for he 
taught her to harp, and she could not withstand the spell of his 
sweet music. But another knight loved Isolte, and he was Sir 
Palamides the Saracen 

Kow it came to pass that the King of Ireland proclaimed a 
great tourney for the lady of the lawns, who should be given to 
be wife of the knight who should do most valiantly. Then said 
Isolte to Tramtrist (for so had he called himself since he came to 
her father’s house), ‘ Wilt thou not joust in this tourney T ‘ I am 
but a young Knight,’ answered Tristram, ‘ and in my first battle 
I was sore wounded : but if thou wilt keep my name secret, I 
will go forth to the field.’ ‘Do so,’ she said, ‘and I will bring 
thee a horse and armour.’ When the day came for the jousting to 
begin. Sir Palamides came with a black shield and smote down 
many knights of the Bound Table ; and on the second day too ho 
was doing wondrously, when the fair Isolte arrayed Tramtrist in 


44 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

white harness and placed him on a white horse; and he came 
into the field as it had been a bright angel; and when he had 
smitten down Sir Palamides, he charged him to forsake the 
maiden Tsolte, and to wear no harness for a twelvemonth and a 
day. Then was Tramtrist in great honour ; but as he tarried yet 
ill the house of the King of Ireland, it chanced that the queen 
saw his sword in his chamber, and when she took it up, she 
marked that a piece was lacking from the edge. In great wrath 
she hastened to fetch the piece that was found in the head of Sir 
IMarhaus; and when she fitted it to the sword, the weapon w'as 
whole. Then fiercely griping the sword, she hurried to the bath 
where Tristram lay, and would have slain him, but a knight who 
was with him thrust her back. And when she was thus hindered, 
she went to the king to make her plaint against Tramtrist, saying 
that he was the traitor knight who had slain Sir Marhaus. ‘ Leave 
me to deal with him,’ said the king. So he sent for Tristram, 
and said, ‘ Tell me all thy story, and if thou hast slain Sir Mar¬ 
haus.’ So he told him all and the king was well satisfied, but he 
said, ‘ I may not maintain you here, unless I displease my barons, 
my wif(‘, and her kin.’ Then answered Tristram, ‘ I go my way; 
but ever shall I bear in mind your kindness, and the goodness of 
your daughter, who healed me of my grievous wound j and of her 
now let me take farewell.’ 

So was Tristram brought unto Isolte the Fair; and there was 
great sorrow between them when he told her all his story, and 
why he had hidden his name from her, and how that he must 
now depart from the land. ‘ All the days of my life,’ he said, 
‘I shall be your knight;’ and he gave her a ring and she gave 
him another; and he went his way and sailed to Cornwall, 
and went first to his father Meliodas and then to King Mark. 
But now the friendship of King Mark was changed to jealousy, 
for both he and Tristram loved the same lady, and she was the 
wife of the Earl Sir Segwarides. So it came to pass that the 
lady sent a dwarf to Tristram, praying him to come and help 
her; and King Mark heard it, and when Tristram set forth, he 
hastened after him, and both were wounded in the fight; and 
Tristram rode forth bleeding to the lady’s house, and there she 
made him good cheer, and would have him tarry with her; but 
there came tidings that the earl was nigh at hand, and Tristram 
liastened away, and after him presently rode the earl, who was 
smitten as King Mark had been smitten before him. 

Yet a few days, and there came a knight of the Bound Table, 
and at his prayer King Mark promised to give him whatsoever 


Arthur and his Knights, 45 

he might ask. And the knight asked for the fairest lady in the 
court, ‘ and this is the wife of Sir Segwarides.’ So he took her 
away, but the earl was wroth and rode after the knight, and again 
he was smitten ; and the tidings were brought to the court of 
King Mark. Then was Tristram ashamed and grieved, and 
hurrying away he came up with the knight, who, after a sore 
battle, yielded him, and it was agreed between them that the 
lady should go with the man whom she might choose. So she 
stood before Tristram and said, ‘Thou wast the man whom I 
most loved and trusted, and I weened that thou hadst loved me 
above all: but when this knight led me away, thou didst suffer 
the earl, my lord, to ride after me to rescue me, and therefore 
now will I love thee no more, and I pray this knight to lead 
me to the abbey where my lord lieth.’ And even so it was 
done. 

But so great now was the hatred of King Mark for Tristram 
that he sought how he might destroy him : and he cliarged him 
to go to Ireland and bring back for him the fair Isolte to be his 
bride. So he set off with the goodliest knights that were in the 
court: but the winds drove back the ship to Camelot; and at 
this time it chanced that the King of Ireland was summoned to 
Arthur’s court on pain of forfeiting his lands and the king’s goo.l 
grace, and when he was come. Sir Blamor de Ganis charged him 
with having slain his brother; wherefore the King of Ireland 
must fight either with his own body or by his champion. When 
Sir Tristram heard these things from his esquife, he rejoiced that 
he might now requite all the kindness which he had received at 
the hands of the king in his own country, and he hastened to him 
and said that he would fight in his quarrel if he would only swear 
that he had not been consenting to the knight’s death, and that 
after the battle he would give him the reward for which he might 
ask. So fought Tristram with Blamor de Ganis who would not 
yield him when he had been smitten, but desired Tristram that 
he should slay him forthwith. At this Tristram started back, for 
he thought it foul shame that so brave a knight should be slain, 
and he besought the judges of the field that they would take the 
matter into their own hands. So after much striving, they took 
up Sir Blamor, and he and his brother were made friends that 
day with the King of Ireland and Sir Tristram. 

After this the king asked Tristram what boon he desired to 
nave; and Tristram said, ‘ Give me Isolte the Fair, to be the 
wife of mine uncle King Mark, for so have I promised him.' 
‘ Nay/ said the king, ‘ far rather would I that thou shouldst take 


46 Populm' Roinances of the Middle Ages. 

her for thyself: but if thou wilt give her to thine uncle, thou 
mayest do so.’ 

So was Isolte taken to the ship ; but the queen her mother had 
given unto her damsel Brengwaine a drink that Isolte and King 
Mark might drink to each other on the day of their wedding, and 
then must they love each other all the days of their life. But it 
80 happened that while the ship was yet on the sea, as h'.olto and 
Tristram sat in the cabin, they spied the little golden vessel, and 
Tristram said, ‘ Here is the best wine that ever ye drank, which 
Brengwaine and my esquire have kept for themselves.’ Then 
they drank to each other, and when they had so done, they loved 
each other so well that never their love departed for weal or for 
woe. But there were hard things to be done yet, before they 
should come to the palace of King Mark, for the ship was driven 
to the Weeping Castle, which was so called because all knights 
who came thither had to fight with the lord of the castle, and if 
the ladies who came with them were less fair than the lady of 
the castle, they must lose their heads, but the lady of the castle 
must lose hers, if any stranger should come fairer than she. And 
so now it came to pass, for Isolte was judged fairer far, and the 
head of the lady of the castle was stricken olf; and afterward 
Tristram slew Sir Brennor, her lord. 

Now Sir Brennor the Savage was the father of the good knight 
Sir Galahad, who now fought against Tristram, aided by the 
king with the hundred knights; and Tristram yielded himself, 
more for the number of Galahad’s men than for the might of his 
hands. Then Galahad sware friendship with him, for he hated 
the evil customs of his father and his mother whom Tristram had 
slain; and he besought Tristram to go to Sir Lancelot du Lake. 
Then said Tristram, ‘ Of aU the knights in the world I most desire 
his fellowship.’ 

Then they went again to the sea, and came to the city of King 
Mark, and there were the king and Isolte richly wedded. But 
some who were moved by hate and envy took the maiden Breng¬ 
waine, and bound her hand and foot to a tree, where Sir Pala- 
mides found her and took her to a monastery, that she might 
legain her strength. But Isolte so grieved for the maiden’s loss 
that she wandered into a forest, where by a well she met Sir 
Palarnides, who promised to bring Brengwaine safe and sound, if 
Isolte would do the thing for which he might ask. And so glad 
was she of his offer, that unadvisedly she promised to grant that 
which he might desire. In a little while he came back with 
Brengwaine, and bade Isolte remember her promise, which he 


Arthur and his Knights. 47 

conl.1 not ask her to fulfil save iu the proseuce of King Mark: 
and in turn Isolte bade him nMueuiber that, albeit she had pro¬ 
mised largely, site had thought no ill, and no ill would she do. 

So Palamides rode after them, and v/heii he saw King Mark he 
told him all that had happened, and demanded that the queen 
should do as she had promised. Then said the king, ‘ That 
which she has sworn must she do,’ and Palamides answered, ‘ I 
will, then, that she go with me whithersoever I may lead her.’ 
‘ Take her,’ said the king in wrath, ‘ for, as I suppose, ye will not 
keep her long.’ So soon as they were gone the king sent for 
Tristram, but when he could nowhere be found, another knight 
said that he would go and fight with Sir Palamides. As these 
two knights fought, the fair Isolte sped away and a good knight 
who found her by a well-side led her towards his castle, and when 
Palamides came up the gates were shut, and he sat down before 
the gate like a man that is mazed. Thither soon came Tristram, 
and there was a fierce strife, in which Sir Palamides was smitten 
down, but the queen prayed for his life ; and when Tristram had 
granted it, she said to Palamides, ‘ Take thy way to the court of 
King Arthur, and commend me to Queen Guenevere, and tell her 
from me that within this land there are but four lovei’s; and 
these are Sir Lancelot of the Lake and Queen Guenevere, and Sir 
Tristram of Liones and Qiieeu Isolte.* 

Then was there great joy when Tristram brought the queen 
back; but there w'as a tr aitorous krright named Aridred who 
sought to do a mischief to his cousin Sir Tristram, atrd told false 
tales to King Mark, who believed bis lies, and would have slain 
Tristram. But Tristram smote him down with the Hat of his 
sword, and then takirrg his horse rode into the forest, where a 
troop of King Mark’s men attacked him, but he killed some and 
wounded thirty more. Then King Mark took courrsel with his 
barons what they should do, and they advised him to take Trds- 
tram into his grace, ' for,’ said they, ‘ if he goes to King Arthur’s 
court, he will get such friends there that he may well avenge 
himself of your malice.’ 

About this time it came to pass that as Sir LamoraK was riding 
with another knight, there came up one sent hy Morgan le Fay, 
bringing with him for King Arthur a horn of such virtue tliat no 
women might drink of it hut such as were true to tlieir husbands, 
and if they were false, they would spill all the drink. ‘ Now/ 
said Lamorak to this knight, ‘ thou shalt bear this horn not to 
King Arthur but to King Mark ; and if not, thou shah die. Ami 
say to him that I sent the horu that he may make tidal of hia 


48 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

wife.* When the knight had carried tliis message to the king, a 
hundred ladies were made to drink of tlie horn, and the wine waa 
spilled by all save four: and they who spilled it were adjudged 
to be burnt. Then the barons gathered together and said plainly 
that they would not suffer this, because the horn came from as 
false a sorceress as any living; and many vowed that if they 
came across Morgan le Fay, they would show her scant courtesy. 

But still Sir Andred played the spy on Sir Tristram and the 
fair Isolte; and one day when they were together, he set upon 
him suddenly with twelve knights and bound him hand and foot, 
and they led him to a chapel upon the sea rocks, there to take 
his judgment. When Tristram saw that there was no help but 
he must die, he brake silence and bade them remember how many 
good deeds he had done for King Mark and for his people. But 
Sir Andred re\iled him, and drew his sword upon him. Then 
suddenly Tristram pulled in his arms and got his hands free, and 
leaping on Sir Andred he wrested his sword from him, and when 
he had smitten down Andred, he slew ten other knights. But 
when he saw the people draw nigh to him, he shut fast the chapel 
door, and breaking the bars of a window threw himself out upon 
the crags. There his esquire and some knights that were his 
friends saw him and lifted him up, and when he asked where Isolte 
was, they told him that she had been placed in a leper’s house. 
‘ She shall not be long there,’ said Tristram, and with his men he 
rescued her and carried her away into a forest, and there abode 
with her. But one day while he slept in the wood, a man whose 
brother he had slain shot him through the shoulder with an 
arrow, and Tristram leaped up and killed the man; but the 
wound wrought him sore mischief, for the arrow with which he 
was hurt was poisoned. When Isolte the Fair heard it, she sent 
a damsel to Tristram, saying that she might not help him, because 
she was strictly shut up by King Mark, but bidding him go to 
Brittany to King Howel, whose daughter, Isolte of the White 
Hands, should heal him of his wound. And even so it came to 
pass; and Tristram did great deeds against the enemies of the 
king, and there grew up great love between him and Isolte, and 
at last she became his wife. When the tidings of this marriage 
were brought to Sir Lancelot, he said, ‘Of all knights in the 
world I loved Tristram most; but now that he is false to his first 
love, Isolte the fair, the love between him and me is done for 
ever, and from this day forth I am his deadly foe.’ And Isolte 
the Fair, when she heard that Tristram was wedded, wrote a 
letter to Queen Guenevere, telling her how she had been forsaken 


49 


Arthur and his Knights. 

by the man whom most she had loved. Then wrote Guenevere, 
bidding her be of good cheer, ‘ for although by crafts of sorcery 
ladies might make noble knights like Tristram wed them, yet in 
the end it shall be thus, that he shall hate her and love you better 
than ever he had done before.’ 

Not long had Tristram been wedded when he went with his 
wife in a. little barge; but the wind blew them away to the coast 
of Wales, to an island on which was Sir Lamorak, and there the 
barge was broken on the shore, and Isolte of the White Hands 
was hurt. By a well on that island, Tristram saw Sir Segwarides 
and a damsel, and Segwarides said, ‘ I know you for the man 
whom I have most cause to hate, because ye took away from me 
the love of my wife ; but I will never hate a noble knight for a 
false woman ; wherefore I pray thee now to stand by me, for we 
are sore bestead. Here dwells the giant Sir Nabon, who slays all 
the knights that he can seize of Arthur’s court; and there is one 
of his knights wrecked upon these rocks, and we will bid* the 
fishers bring him hither.’ When he was come, Tristram knew 
Lamorak, but Lamorak knew not him; but when Tristram told 
him his story, and that his malice had not much hurt him, they 
made peace together, and fought with Sir Nabon and his knights. 
And Tristram slew Nabon and his son; and then all the people 
of the land said that they would hold of Sir Tristram. ‘ Nay,’ 
said Tristram, ‘ that may not be ; but here is the good knight Sir 
Lamorak who shall rule over you wisely and justly.’ But neither 
would Lamorak have it, and so the land was given to Segwarides, 
who governed it worshipfully. And Lamorak went his way, 
doing many knightly deeds, to the court of King Arthur. 


1/ CHAPTEK IX. 

THE MADNESS OF SIR TRISTRAM. 

Now there came at this time to the king a young man of a goodly 
form, whose coat, of rich golden cloth, sat ill across his shoulders. 
And when Sir Kay knew that he was named Sir Brennor the 
Black, he said that he should be called the Knight of the Ill- 
shapen Coat, for he thought scorn of him as he had done of the 
knight whom he called Prettyhands. But when the king asked 
why he wore that coat, the young man said that his father was 
hewn to death in it by his enemies, who fell on him when he was 

D 



50 Popular Romances of tne Middle Ages. 

asleep, and that he would wear it until he had revenged that deed 
upon them. Then he besought King Arthur to make him a 
knight, and Lamorak and Gaheris prayed him likewise, for they 
said, ‘ Even such a one was Sir Lancelot when he first came to 
this court, and now he is proved the mightiest knight in the 
world.’ But before the king was able to knight him, the youth 
had done a great deed, for as he was left behind with Qu( en 
Guenevere a lion brake loose from a stone tower, and came 
furiously towards her, and while others fied for fear, the knight 
of the ill-shapen robe clave his head asunder. Wherefore he was 
made knight with the more honour. 

That same day came a damsel bearing a shield, and she asked 
whether any knight there would take up the task which the 
owner of it had left undone, because he was sorely wounded; 
and when all others stood silent, the knight of the ill-shapen coat 
laid his hand on the shield and said that he would go. But the 
damsel reviled him, like the maiden who had reviled Sir Pretty- 
hands, and she said, ‘ If thou wilt follow me, thy skin shall be as 
well hewn as thy coat.’ ‘Nay,’ said the youth, ‘ when I am so 
hewn, I will ask you no salve to heal me withal.’ As they went 
on their way together, they were met by two knights, each of 
whom unhorsed the youth ; but he said, ‘ I have no disworship 
for this, for neither would dismount and fight with me on foot.’ 
Not long afterwards, a hundred knights assailed him at once; 
and he got off his horse and put himself against a chamber-wall, 
for he wished rather to die thus than to bear the rebukes of the 
damsel of the evil words; but as he stood and fought there, she 
came up slily and taking away the horse tied him by the bridle 
to the postern, and then, going to a window at his back, she 
called to him and said, ‘ Thou lightest wondrously well. Sir 
Knight; but nevertheless thou must die, unless thou canst win 
thy way to thy horse, which I have tied up to abide thy coming.’ 
Then with a mighty effort the youth threw himself upon the 
throng, and, cleaving down one and then another, reached his 
horse and rode away. But the maiden who was talking with Sir 
Mordred deemed that he was either slain or taken prisoner ; and 
when she saw the youth hastening towards her, she said that 
they had let him pass only as a dastard, and sent a messenger to 
ask how it came about that the knight of the ill-shaped coat had 
esca];)ed from their hands. ‘He is a fiend,’ they said, ‘ and no 
man. He has slain twelve of our best knights, and neither 
Tristram nor Lancelot could stand before him.’ 

Then the youth rode with the damsel till they came unto the 


51 


A rtkur and his Knights. 

castle called Pendragon, where five knights set upon him with 
spears, and, taking him prisoner, led him into the castle. But 
Lancelot du Lake heard tell how he had been taken captive and 
placed in dungeons where were many other knights and ladies be¬ 
longing to King Arthur’s court, and straightway fighting with the 
lord of the castle, he made him yield himself and swear to deliver 
up all his prisoners ; and so Sir Lancelot rescued the knight of 
the evil-shaped coat from the hands of Sir Brian of the Isles ; 
and he charged the damsel never more to rebuke the youth. 
Then said the maiden, ^ Think not that I rebuked him because I 
hated him; nay, but I have loved him always ; ’ and so likewise 
had the damsel spoken who rebuked Sir Prettyhands. ‘ Be it 
so,’ said Sir Lancelot; ‘ and now thou shalt he called no more 
the Damsel with the Evil Words, but the Maiden of the Good 
Thoughts.’ Then he made the youth with the evil-shapen coat 
lord of the Castle of Pendragon and all its lands; and there the 
youth wedded the maiden that had reviled him. 

Now about this time, when Isolte the Fair had heard that 
Tristram was wedded to Isolte of the White Hands, she sent him 
letters as piteous as any that ever were written, beseeching him 
to come over with his bride, and saying that both would be right 
gladly welcomed. Then with Sir Kehydius, and the maiden 
Brengwaine, and his esquire, Tristram went into a ship, which 
the winds drove on the coasts of North Wales, near the Perilous 
Castle. There, riding away with Kehydius, Tristram met by the 
side of a well a knight with whom he jousted ; and when he 
knew that it was Sir Lamorak of Wales, Tristram reproved him 
for the sending of the horn to King Mark’s court, and he said, 
‘Now must one of us twain die.’ Yet so knightly did Lamorak 
bear himself, that Tristram forgave him, and became his friend, 
and they sware that neither should ever hurt the other. 

And now was King Arthur himself to face new perils, for the 
Lady Annowre, who was a great sorceress, came to him at Cardiff 
and by fair words made him ride with her into a forest, where 
she took him to a tower and sought to win his love. But the 
king thought only of Guenevere, and when Annowre could prevail 
nothing with him, she sent him forth into the forest that he 
might be slain. But the Lady Nimue of the Lake knew her 
wiles, and she rode about until she met Sir Tristram and hade 
him hasten to the succour of a right noble knight who was hard 
bestead. ‘It is King Arthur himself,’ she said; and Tristram 
was sore grieved, and putting spurs to his horse he soon reached 
a place where two knights had unhorsed one, and a maiden, 


52 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

which was Annowre, stood by with a sword drawn in her hand 
ready to slay him. Then like a thunderbolt Tristram dashed 
down on those knights and slew them, and he cried to the king, 

‘ Let not that lady escape ; ’ and Arthur seizing his sword smote 
off her head, which the Lady of the Lake bare away at her 
saddle-bow. Then Sir Tristram placed the king on his horse and 
rode wdth him until they met Sir Ector de Maris, with whom he 
left King Arthur : but he would not as at this time tell the king 
his name. 

Then went Tristram back to his ship, and sailed away to Corn¬ 
wall, and when they had landed, the maiden Brengwaine went 
■with a knight to the court of King Mark to tell the queen that 
Tristram w'as nigh at hand. ‘ Let me speak with him,’ said the 
fair Isolte, ‘ or my heart will break.’ So the maiden went back 
and brought Tristram with Kehydius into a chamber which the 
queen had assigned. What joy there was now between Isolte the 
Fair and Tristram, tongue cannot tell nor pen write, nor the 
heart think. But Kehydius too was smitten with the love of 
Isolte, so soon as he had seen her* and of that love afterwards he 
died. And he wrote letters and ballads, the goodliest that were, 
to the queen, who in pity of his love and sorrow sent him a letter 
in return. This letter Tristram found one day when King Mark 
was playing at chess in the window : and full of grief and rage he 
rebuked Isolte for her treachery to him, and would have slain 
Kehydius; but when Kehydius saw what Tristram would do, he 
leaped from a window and escaped. And Tristram also went his 
way from the Castle of Tintagil, heeding not whither he went. 
In vain the lady of a great castle sought to make him good cheer. 
He would neither eat nor drink, and he wandered away again 
into the forest, and there he played upon his harp and wept, 
until his sorrow drove him mad. Even so he abode for three 
months, lean of flesh and ragged in raiment, among herdmen and 
shepherds, who held him to be a fool; and the deeds of a fool he 
did in his madness and his misery. But a little while and there 
came false tidings that Tristram was dead : and Isolte the Fair 
would have slain herself in her frenzy, if the king had not caught 
her when she was going to fall upon a sword. So was Isolte 
placed in a strong tower and strictly guarded. 

But soon after this there came a knight to the palace of King 
Ma.rk bearing a giant’s head; and he told the king how when 
this giant would have slain him, a naked fool who lay by a well- 
side came and smote off his head. ‘ I will see that wild man,’ 
said King Mark, and riding to the fountain, they found the man, 


Arthur and his Knights, 53 

but knew not that it was Tristram. Nor did any know him 
when he was brought into the king’s palace, not even Isolte the 
Fair, so grievously was he changed. But the little dog which he 
had given to the queen when first he brought her to Cornwall 
leaped upon him for joy, and then Isolte, knowing that Tristram 
was before her, swooned away for gladness. When she came to 
herself, she said but few words, for her heart was heavy. Only 
she prayed him to hasten to King Arthur’s court, where he would 
be right welcome. ‘ If King Mark learns who thou art,’ she said, 

‘ he will seek to slay thee ; and as for me, whenever I may, I 
shall send unto you, and ever to my dying day thou hast all my 
love.’ And even as Isolte said, it came to pass, for the little dog 
which would not leave Tristram made him known to Sir Andred, 
who told the king, and the king sought to have Tristram judged 
to death : but because some of the barons would not suffer this, 
Tristram was banished out of the country for ten years. Then 
stood up Tristram and said, ‘ Ye have given me a goodly reward 
for all my deeds. Ye have recompensed me well for delivering 
this land from truage, for bringing the fair Isolte from Ireland, for 
rescuing the wife of Sir Segwarides, for smiting down Sir Lamorak 
of Wales, for doing battle with the king of the hundred knights, 
for saving the queen from the hands of Palamides, and for all else 
that I have done. Be ye sure I shall come again when 1 may.’ 
And having thus said he departed; and soon he fell in with a 
damsel who was seeking knights to come and help Sir Lancelot, 
for the queen Morgan Le Fay had placed thirty knights who 
should set upon him as he passed by. And these knights Sir 
Tristram and his comrade Sir Dinadan fought with, and part of 
them they slew and the rest they put to flight. 

But when Tristram had gone yet a little further, there met him 
another damsel, who told him that he should win much glory by 
doing battle with a knight who wrought great mischief in all that 
country. So he rode on with her, but after six miles Sir Gawaine 
met them, and he knew that the damsel was one of the maidens 
of Mor<»-an le Fay, and his heart misgave him that she was lead¬ 
ing aw^ the knight to his hurt. So straightway drawing out his 
sword, he said, ‘Tell me, damsel, whither thou art guiding this 
knight, or thou shalt die.’ Then she cried for mercy, and told 
them how Morgan le Fay was plotting againgst Tristram the 
same treason which she had plotted against Sir Lancelot. 

Thus through Sir Gawaine Tristram escaped this peril, and 
after this Sir Arthur held a great tournament. On the first day 
Tristram won the prize, but on the second after he had smitten 


54 Popidar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

down Sir Gaheris, he went his way, and none knew whither h€ 
had gone ; on the third day the prize was adjudged to Sir 
Lancelot, hut he would not have it, for he said that by right it 
was Tristram’s, who had done more than any other could do. But 
Tristram could not be found ; and Lancelot with nine other 
knights sware that for a whole year they would not rest two nights 
in the same place until they had found Tristram and brought him 
back to the court. But Tristram was now shut up in the 
dungeons of Sir Darras, whose sons he had slain or wounded in 
the tourney; and then Tristram again became sick almost unto 
death, and in his knightly pity Sir Darras let him go with his 
fellows on this covenant, that he should be a good friend to tho 
two sons of Sir Darras who still remained alive. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE TREASONS OE KING MARK AND PALAMIDES. 

Xow was the time come that Tristram should march himself with 
King Arthur, and thus it came to pass. The king seeing him 
with the shield which Morgan le Fay had given him, asked him 
to describe the arms, and to say whence he had it. Then 
Tristram told the king who it was that had given him the shi^d, 
but the arms he knew not how to describe. Then,’ said he, ‘tell 
me your name.’ But when Tristram would not, the king 
challenged him to fight, and after a fierce struggle the king was 
unhorsed, and he said, ‘We have that which we deserved.’ 

Then Tristram departed, and as he rode towards Camelot 
there met him a knight, clad all in white raiment, with a 
covered shield. And they fought together, not knowing who the 
other might be. At the last Sir Lancelot asked, ‘ Who art thou 
that lightest thus wondrously % ’ And Tristram said that he was 
loth to tell. ‘ Nay,’ answered Lancelot, ‘ I was never loth to tell 
my name to any that asked it.’ ‘ Then,’ said Tristram, ‘ tell it to 
me now,’ and when he knew that it was Sir Lancelot, he said, 
‘ What have I done, for thou art the man that I love best in the 
world ? ’ Then said Lancelot, ‘ Tell me thy name.’ And when 
Tristram told him, Lancelot rushed down and yielded up his 
sword, and Tristram kneeling yielded his ; and many times they 
kissed each other, and then went on their way to Camelot, where 



Arthur and his Knights, 55 

they met with Gavvaine and Gaheris, and Lancelot said to them, 

‘ Your quest is done, for here is ISir Tristram. 

Great was the joy of King Arthur’s court that this noble knight 
had come back ; and the king went to all the seats about the 
Eound Table which lacked knights, and in the seat of Sir 
Marhaus, whom Tristram had slain, he saw the words written, 

* This is the seat of the good knight Sir Tristram,’ and so was 
Tristram made a knight of the Eound Table. 

But the more that his glory was spread abroad, the more King 
Mark of Cornwall hated him, and at last he left his own land to 
seek out Tristram and slay him : and strange things befell him as 
he went from one country to another, searching for him. For 
first he came to a fountain, and by it he heard Sir Laniorak of 
Wales making moan of his love for Arthur’s sister, the wife of 
the King of Orkney, whom Pellinore slew : and when King Mark 
went to him and questioned him of his sorrow. Sir Lamorak knew 
him to be a Cornish knight, and rebuked him because he served 
the most traitorous king that ever lived. Next he came to a 
castle, where the lieutenant knew him to be the man who had 
murdered his father, and the lieutenant said, ‘ For the love of my 
lord, I will not hurt thee whilst thou art here; but when thou 
art beyond this lodging, I will do thee what harm I may, for 
thou didst slay my father treacherously.’ And again another day 
he heard Sir Palamides as he mourned for his love of the fair 
Isolte, who would give no heed to his prayer. ‘ A fool am I to 
love thee,’ he said, ‘ when thy love is given to Tristram only, and 
thou art the wife of a coward and a traitor. Alas ! that ever so 
fair a lady should be matched with the most villainous knight of 
the world.’ 

Then without a word King Mark hastened away to Camelot, 
where the knight Amant had charged him with treason before 
Arthur; and the king bade him do battle with his accuser, and 
when they met, King Mark smote down Sir Amant, who was in 
the righteous quarrel. 

Great was the grief of Tristram when he saw Amant stricken . 
down for the love of himself and of the fair Isolte : and when 
Lancelot saw Tristram weeping, he prayed the king to let him go 
after King Mark. But when King Mark saw Lancelot, ho would 
not fight. Falling straightway from his horse, he yielded himself 
as a recreant, and as a recreant was he brought back and shamed 
in King Arthur’s court, and made to own himself the king’s man. 
And the king said, ‘This I bid thee, that thou shalt be a good 
lord to Sir Tristram, and that thou take him into Cornwall and 


56 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

clierish him there for my sake/ This King Mark sware to do, 
and as he had done many a time before, so now he sware falsely. 
Then said Lancelot to King Arthur, 'What hast thou ^ done? 
Knowest thou not that Mark is a traitor and a murderer 1 ’ And 
Arthur said, ' It was Tristram’s own desire. I have made them 
of one accord : and what could I do more V So as they went 
forth, Lancelot gave King Mark solemn warning. ' See that thou 
break not thy faith,’ he said, ‘ with Sir Tristram: for if thou dost, 
with mine own hands I will slay thee.’ 

At this time it was that Sir Aglavale brought to King Arthur 
a young man whom he prayed him to knight; and he was Sir 
Percivale of Wales. When all things were ready, a maiden who 
had ever been dumb came into the hall, and going to Sir Percivale 
led him by the hand to the right side of the Perilous Seat, and 
said, ‘ Take here thy seat, fair knight, for to thee it appertaineth 
and to no other.’ And when she had so said she went away and 
died. 

Now the sons of the Queen of Orkney knew how Sir Lamorak 
loved their mother, and with the intent to slay him they sent for 
their mother to a castle near Camelot; and there, while Sir 
Lamorak was with her. Sir Gaheris came in with a drawn sword 
and smote off his mother’s head. And great again was the 
grief in Arthur’s court, that the sister of the king should thus ba 
slain. 

But now were the tokens seen of yet greater evils; for there 
came letters to Arthur from King Mark, bidding him look to 
himself and his wife and his knights, and not to meddle with the 
wives of others. When he had read this letter, he mused of 
many things, and he thought on the words of Morgan le Fay 
respecting Guenevere and Lancelot; but when he remembered 
how his sister hated the queen and Lancelot, he put away the 
thought. To Lancelot also King Mark sent letters ; and Lancelot 
took counsel respecting them with Sir Dinadan, who said, ‘ 1 will 
make a lay of King Mark and teach it to many harpers.’ And 
the worst lay it was that ever harper sang to his harp. 

At this time came the men of Sessoins against King Mark to 
claim truage, and at the king’s bidding Tristram did battle for 
him, and slew Sir Elias their leader. At the feast which followed, 
a harper came named Eliot, who sang Sir Dinadan’s lay, and he 
escaped the king’s vengeance only because he was a minstrel ; 
and he was driven forth from the king’s presence. But the king 
added now other treasons to his old crimes, for he murdered hia 
own brother the good knight Sir Baldwin, who had burnt th® 


ArtJmr and his Knights. 57 

ships of the men of Sessoins by sending fire-ships among them r 
and Baldwin’s wife, the Lady Anglides, took his bloody sark and 
kept it secretly. But yet more did the king seek to slay her son 
Alisander the orphan, and he charged Sir Sadok to do the deed. 
By and by. Sir Sadok came back and told the king that he had 
drowned the child; but he had let liim go free with his mother. 
So passed the years away until Alisander was grown up; and 011 
the day on which he was made a knight, his mother drew out the 
blood stained doublet and placed it in his hands, ‘ It is the shirt 
which thy father wore/ she said, ‘ when King Mark plunged the 
dagger in his heart.’ And the young man said, ‘ Thou hast given 
me a great charge, my mother; and I promise thee, I will be 
avenged on King Mark when I may.’ 

When these tidings were brought to King Mark, he was sore 
dismayed, for he weened that Alisander was long ago dead, and 
he sought how to slay Sir Sadok, but Sir Sadok struck fear into 
his heart by his stern words; and King Mark sent instead to 
Morgan le Fay, and prayed her to set the country on fire through 
her sorceries, so that in anywise Sir Alisander might be slain. 
So Morgan stirred against him the knight Malgrin; and Sir 
Alisander fought with him, and although he was sorely wounded 
himself, yet slew he his enemy. Then Morgan le Fay took him 
to her own castle, and healed him of his wounds, when she had 
made him promise that for a twelvemonth and a day he would 
not pass the compass of the castle. And thus did he keep his 
oath. There came to him a damsel who said, ‘ If thou wilt give 
me thy love, I will deliver thee from Morgan le Fay, who keeps 
thee here that she may do with you as she will.’ ‘ Tell me how 
thou wilt do this,’ he said, ‘ and thou shalt have my love.’ Then 
she said, ‘ I will send to my father, the Earl of Pase, and bid him 
come and destroy this castle, and after that thou shalt guard the 
ground on which it stands that none shall pass over it for a 
twelvemonth and a day.’ And even so was it done; and Ali¬ 
sander let the heralds make a cry that he would keep that spot 
against all knights who came. Among these knights came 
Ansirus the Pilgrim, who went every third year to Jerusalem; 
and for this cause his daughter who was with him was called 
Alice the Fair Pilgrim. And Alice said in the hearing of many 
knights, ‘ He that overcometh the knight who keepeth that spot 
of ground where stood the castle of Morgan le Fay shall have me 
and all my lands.’ But for all she said this, she went to Sir 
Alisander when he had smitten all the knights who went against 
him for the sake of Alice the Fair Pilgrim, and taking the bridle 


58 Popular Rofuances of the Middle Ages. 

of his horse, she said, ‘ Show me thy visage; ’ and when she sa\f 
it she said, ‘Thee must I love always, and never any other.’ 

‘ Then lift thy wimple,’ he said : and when he saw her face he 
said, ‘ Here have I found my love; ’ and in this wise kept he his 
troth to the maiden who rescued him from the hands of Morgan 
le Fay. 

Meanwhile, there were fresh perils for Sir Tristram, for the 
counsel of certain knights, who hated Sir Lancelot, and would 
have slain him, was revealed to King Mark, who thought to send 
forth Tristram so disguised that these knights, taking him to be 
Lancelot, should follow him and slay him. In the fight which 
presently came about between them Tristram smote down the 
knights, but he was sorely wounded himself, and King Mark 
came to him feigning to be sorry ; and saying that he would 
himself be his leecL, he brought him to a castle and put him in a 
strong prison. But when there was a great outcry made among 
all good knights against this treason. King Mark thought how he 
might be rid of Tristram after another fashion. So he caused 
letters to be written in the Pope’s name, bidding all good men 
go and fight against the Saracens at Jerusalem : and these letters 
he sent to Tristram, saying that if he would go forth on this 
errand, he should be set free. ‘ Bid King Mark go himself,’ said 
Tristram, ‘ I stir not.’ Then King Mark caused other letters to 
be written in which he made the Pope name Tristram among those 
who should go to the Holy City; but when Tristram looked at 
the letters, he knew whence they came, and he said, ‘ A liar and 
a traitor he hath ever been, and ever will be.’ Not long after 
this came Sir Percivale of Wales, and by his means was Tristram 
brought out of prison; but although King Mark sware again to 
Percivale that he would do no more harm to Sir Tristram, yet he 
shut him up in prison again, because he found him with the fair 
Isolte. Then from his prison Tristram sent letters to her, saying 
that now, if she would go with him, he would take her away into 
King Arthur’s, country, since the treasons of King Mark were no 
longer to be borne. So the queen devised that King Mark should 
be shut up in prison, and while he was kept in bonds, she filed 
away with Tristram, and came to the court of King Arthur. 

Right glad was the king to welcome them; and Sir Lancelot 
brought them to his own castle of Joyous Card; and the days for 
them passed by like a happy dream. Yet did Tristram achieve 
many great things; and on one day he joined himself to Sir 
Dinadan who had made the lay on King Mark, and feigning to be 
but a poor feeble knight he thrust Dinadan on all manner of hard 


ArtJmr and his Kflights. 5^ 

tasks, so that he was sorely buffeted and wounded, and then 
putting forth his might, he smote down all who sought to fight 
with him ; and much laughing and jesting there was afterward at 
Sir Binadan for the toils which came upon him while he bare the 
helmet of Sir Tristram. So when this was told to the fair Isolte, 
she bade that Sir Binadan should be brought before her ; and 
when she asked him about Tristram, Binadan marvelled that he 
and other knights could be so besotted upon women. ‘ AVhat! ’ 
said Isolte, ‘art thou a knight and no lover 1’ ^Nay,’ iiid 
Binadan, ‘ the joy of love is too short and the sorrow of it too 
long.* ‘ Say not so,’ answered Isolte; ‘ here have been knights 
who have fought with three at once for the love of a maiden. 
Will you fight for love of me with three knights who have done 
me great wrong 1 ’ ‘ Thou art a fair lady,’ answered Binadan, 

‘ fairer than even Guenevere : yet with three at once will I not 
fight whether for thee or for any other.’ And all who In ard him 
laughed, and merry was the feast that day. 

At another time when Tristram went forth, he met a knight 
with whom he jousted. For a long time neither prevailed against 
the other, but at last Tristram threw down his enemy, and he 
asked his name. ‘ I am Sir Palamides,’ he said. ‘ What is the 
man whom thou most hatest ] ’ asked Tristram. ‘ It is Tristram 
of Liones; and if I meet with him, one of us twain shall die.’ 
‘ Bo thy worst then,’ said Tristram, ‘ for I am he.’ But so was 
Sir Palamides astonished at these words that he prayed Tristram 
to forgive him all his evil will; and so was their long enmity 
brought to an end. 

Then they went onward together for the great tournament 
which King Arthur would hold at the Castle of Lonazep : and as 
they drew nigh to Humber bank, they saw coming towards them 
a rich vessel covered with red silk, and it came to land close to 
them, and on it was a fair bed whereon lay a dead man in whose 
hand was a letter, saying how King Hermanec, Lord of the lied 
City, had been slain by two men whom he had most of all 
cherished and trusted, and beseeching the knights of King 
Arthur’s court to send some one to avenge his death. ‘ I cannot 
go and avenge him,’ said Tristram, ‘ for I have given a pledge 
that I will be at this tournament.’ ‘ Then,’ answered Palamides, 
‘ I will go ; ’ and the vessel bare him to the Red City, where the 
people welcomed him joyfully. But they said, ‘ Thou must go 
again in the barge, until thou shalt come to the Belectable Isle, 
where is the castle of the men who murdered our king.’ When 
he was come thither and had got out upon the land, there mot 


6 o Poptdar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

him a knight who claimed the task of avenging King Hermaneo 
as his own, but when this knight knew that it was Sir Palamides 
who had come to fight in this quarrel, he was right glad, and 
said, ‘ There are three knights only whom I had rather have met 
than thee: and these are Lancelot, Tristram, and my nigh cousin 
Lamorak of Wales.’ ‘Ye say well,’ said Palamides, ‘ and if I be 
slain, go ye to Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram and bid them avenge 
my death, for as for Sir Lamorak, him shall ye never see again in 
this world.’ ‘ Alas ! ’ said the knight, ‘ how may that be ? ’ ‘He 
is slain,’ answered Palamides, ‘ by Sir Gawaine and his brethren, 
who slew their own mother because she loved him; but Sir 
Gareth, the fifth brother, and the best knight of them all, was 
away, and had nought to do with these foul deeds.’ 

Now were the tidings brought to the murderers of King 
Hermanec that Sir Palamides had come, an unchristened knight, to 
avenge him. ‘ If he be unchristened,’ they said, ‘ christened he 
never will be, if he fights with us.’ But for all their boasting, 
the two brothers were slain by the Saracen knight Palamides, 
who hastened away after this to the Castle of Lonazep, where he 
found not Tristram, for he had not yet come with the fair Isolte 
from Joyous Gard. So to Joyous Gard he went, and he saw once 
more the lady he had ever loved, Isolte the Fair ; and so 
ravished was he with her beauty that he could scarcely speak or 
eat. 

And from Joyous Gard they rode to Lonazep, as the time for 
the great tournament drew nigh; and there Tristram api)eared 
before King Arthur, but he would not tell his name, although 
Arthur besought him much, neither would he say upon which 
party he would hold in the jousting. But afterwards he took 
counsel with Sir Palamides, who said that they should be against 
Arthur, who would have the greatest knights on his side, ‘ and 
the greater they are, the more worship shall we win, if we be 
better than they.’ So on the morning Tristram and Palamides 
with Sir Dinadan and Gaheris rode forth clad all in green, and the 
fair Isolte rode with them. And when King Arthur saw them, 
he asked who they might be: but none knew. Then he said, 
‘ See by the names in the sieges which of the knights of the 
Bound Table are not here with us.’ And among the names of 
those who were not there were the names of Tristram, Palamides, 
Gaheris, and seven others. Then said the king, ‘ Some of these, 
I dare to say, are against us here this day.’ Then in the jousting 
were great deeds done, and Sir Lancelot first smote Tristram; 
but Tristram, recovering himself, hurled King Arthur from hia 


Arthur and his Knights, 6\ 

liorse. Then going away from the field, he came back presently 
in red armour, that none might know him, and he placed on their 
horses Sir Palamides and some other knights who had been 
smitten down. But at this moment Palamides looking up saw 
the fair Isolte smiling at Tristam, for she alone knew him in his 
red armour ; and Palamides, thinking that her smile was for him, 
felt himself filled with new strength, and from this time he fought 
like a lion,, longing secretly in his heart that he might do battle to 
the death with Sir Tristram, his friend, because he had taken 
from him her love. And all men marvelled at the might of his 
arm, and the prize of this day was given to him. On the morrow, 
before the jousting began again. King Arthur rode forth with Sir 
Lancelot to greet the fair Isolte; but when she had welcomed 
the king, Palamides broke in with angry words, and when the 
king heeded not his wrath, Palamides took his spear and smote 
him down ; and because Sir Tristram rebuked him for this deed, 
he determined to go over to the other side and fight with the man 
whom he called his friend. On this day Tristram put forth his 
strength, and Palamides wept that he might win no worship, for 
scarce any might hope to do so when Tristram used all his man¬ 
hood. But when they had jousted for some time, Tristram went 
from the field and came back clad in black aimour with Sir 
Dinadan; and Palamides also had disguised himself with a shield 
and armour which he had borrowed from a knight who was rest¬ 
ing himself by the water-side. But for all his scheming, and 
though he strove with all his power against Tristram, yet was 
Tristram adjudged to be the best knight that day. 

Full of wrath was Isolte against Palamides, for she had seen all 
his treachery, and how he had changed armour with the knight 
by the water-side. But Palamides feigned that he knew not Sir 
Tristram in his black armour, and Tristram forgave him for all 
that he had done. In the evening when the jousting was ended, 
there came two knights armed into the tent where the fair Isolte 
sat at meat with Sir Tristram and Palamides ; but when Tristram 
rebuked them for coming armed, one of them said, ‘ We have 
come for no evil; I am here to see you, and this knight seeks to 
greet the queen.’ ‘ Then doff your helms,’ said Tristram, ‘ that I 
may see you ; ’ and when they had done so, they knew that 
Arthur and Lancelot stood before them ; and great was the joy 
and gladness between them. Then said Arthur to Isolte, ‘ Many 
a day have I longed to see thee, so highly art thou praised : and 
indeed thou art lair as fair may be, and well are ye beset with the 
good and ffiir knight Sir Tristram ; ’ and his v. ords filled the 


62 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

heart of Palamides with bitter grief and rage, and all that night 
he wept sore for envy of his friend who had won the love of 
King Mark’s wife. 

On the next day too were great things done, but because 
Arthur’s men were far fewer than they who were against them, 
Tristram said he would go over to the other side. Then answered 
Palamides, ‘ Do as thou wilt. I change not.’ ‘ Ah ! ’ said 
Tristram, ‘ that is for my sake, I dare to say ; speed you well in 
your journey.’ But because Palamides could not bear down 
Tristram in the jousts that day, his wrath grew more fierce, and in 
the evening when they came to the pavilions he called Tristram 
a traitor, and sware to slay him if ever he might. ‘ Well,’ said 
Tristram, ‘I see not why thou wilt not have my friendship ; but 
since thou givest me so large warning I shall be well ware of 
you.’ And all these things were told to Queen Guenevere, who 
lay sick in a castle by the sea-side. But more grievous still 
became the anguish of Sir Palamides, and he wandered about as 
one that is in a frenzy. ‘ Alas! ’ he said, ‘ I have lost the fellow¬ 
ship of Sir Tristram for ever, and for ever have I lost the love of 
Isolte the Fair; and now I am never like to see her more, and 
Tristram and I are mortal foes.’ So, as he wandered along, he 
came to a castle where many were weeping, and when they saw 
Palamides they said, ‘ Here is the man who slew our lord at the 
tournament,’ and for all he fought and struggled, they took him 
prisoner and adjudged him to death. And so it chanced that the 
tidings were brought to Sir Tristram, who said, ‘ Palamides has 
done me great wrong: yet must I rescue or avenge him, for he is 
too good a knight to be thus done to death.’ On the morrow 
then he set forth with this intent: but as Sir Palamides was led 
forth to die Sir Lancelot met them, and straightway did battle 
with them until those who had not been wounded or hurt fled 
away. Then at Tristram’s prayer Lancelot and Palamides went 
to the castle where the fair Isolte abode ; and glad was she to 
welcome Sir Lancelot; but Palamides mourned more and more, 
until he faded away and all his strength departed from him. So 
wandering forth again, he came to a fountain, where he uttered 
all his complaint, and Tristram who chanced to be nigh heard 
it. So great was Tristram’s wrath at the first that he thought to 
slay Palamides as he lay. But he remembered that Palamides 
was unarmed, and he checked himself, and going up to him he 
said, ‘ Thou art a traitor to me ; how wilt thou acquit thyself ] ’ 

‘ Thus,’ said Palamides; ‘ from the hour when first I saw her 
Isolte has been my love, and well I know that it shall befall me 


Arthur and his Knights, 6j 

as it befell Kehydiiis who died for her love. Through her onl^ 
have I done all the deeds that I have done, and through all I 
have been her knight guerdonless, for no reward or bounty have 
I ever had from her. Wherefore I had as soon die as live : and 
for treason, I have done none to thee, for love is free to all men, and 
Isolte is my lady as well as yours, only that thou hast her love, 
and this had I never, nor shall I ever have it.’ ‘ For all this,’ 
said Tristram, ‘I will fight with thee to the uttermost.’ ‘Be it 
so,’ answered Palamides; ‘ on the fifteenth day I will be ready 
for thee.’ ‘What, art thou turned coward, that thou needst fifteen 
days to make thee ready for battle? Let us fight on the morrowT 
‘It may not be,’ said Palamides; ‘my strength is gone for very 
grief and sorrow: but on the fifteenth I will not fail you.’ But 
so it happened that when the fifteenth day was come, it was 
Tristram who could not keep the tryst, for one day in a forest an 
archer shooting at a hart hit Tristram, and gave him a grievous 
wound. At the end of a month he was whole : and then he took 
horse and sought everywhere for his enemy; but Sir Palamides 
could nowhere be found. 


CHAPTER XL 

THE BIRTH OF THE GOOD KNIGHT GALAHAD. 

Now one day when King Arthur sat with his knights at the 
Round Table, there came a hermit, who seeing the Siege Perilous 
empty asked wherefore it was void; and the king said that one 
only might sit in it and live. ‘ Who then is that one 1 ’ asked the 
hermit: and when they could not tell him, he spake again, and 
said, ‘ The man that shall sit there is yet unborn; but he shall be 
born this year and shall achieve the Holy Grail j ’ and having so 
said, he departed. 

Soon after this, Lancelot also went his way until he came to 
the town of Corbin, where the folk welcomed him as their 
deliverer. ‘ What mean ye by your cries 1 ’ said the knight. 
Then they showed him a tower in which lay a maiden in great 
pain, for she boiled in scalding water, and none had been able to 
rescue her. She was the fairest maiden in all the land, and there¬ 
fore Morgan le Fay had shut her up in the dismal tower, until 
the best knight of the world should take her by the hand. But 
as Lancelot drew near, the doors opened to him of their own will, 



64 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

and on the couch he beheld the maiden, whose heart the fire had 
entered for many a long year. So was the damsel rescued from 
her enchantment, and the people said to Lancelot, ‘ Now must 
thou do yet another thing, thou must free us from a serpent that 
is here in a tomb.' Then as Lancelot came to the tomb, he saw 
written on it in golden letters, ‘ A leopard shall come of kingly 
blood, and shall slay this serpent, and from the leopard shall 
spring a lion which shall pass all other knights.’ Even so it came 
to pass, for Lancelot slew the grisly snake, and the fair maiden 
Elaine became the mother of his child Galahad. And in the 
house of her father King Pelles, the cousin of Joseph of Arimathie, 
as they sat at meat, there came in at a window a dove, in whose 
mouth there seemed to be a censer of gold. With it there came 
a savour as of all the spicery in the world ; and forthwith upon 
the table were seen all manner of meats and drinks. Presently 
there came a maiden bearing in her hands a vessel of pure gold, 
and before it the king and his knights kneeled and prayed 
devoutly. ‘ What may this mean ? ’ said Lancelot: and the 
king answered, ‘ This is the richest thing that any child of man 
may have; and when it goes about, the Round Table shall be 
broken, for that which thou hast seen is the Holy Grail.’ 

But when Sir Lancelot saw Elaine in her father’s house, he 
weened it had been Queen Guenevere, for he was brought under 
inchantment, and when he knew how he had been deceived, he 
would have slain the maiden, who with tears prayed him for her 
life, because she had given him her maiden love and faith. Then 
was Lancelot appeased, and the time went, and the child wa-s 
born and named Galahad: and after this came another knight 
who had loved her long and sought to make her his wife. ‘ Nay,’ 
she said, ‘ ask me never again. My love is set on the best knight 
in the world, and none other will I wed and when that knight 
knew to whom her love was given, he sware with an oath that he 
would slay Sir Lancelot. 

But Lancelot was long since gone away, and Elaine asked Sir 
Bors who had come thither where the knight might be, and he 
told her how he was shut up in prison by Morgan le Fay, King 
Arthur’s sister. But even as he looked on the babe in Elaine’s 
arms, he marvelled how like it seemed to Sir Lancelot, and she 
said, ‘ Truly it is his child; ’ and even as she spake, once more 
the white dove hovered in with the golden censer. Once more 
came the savour of all delightsome spicery. Once more the 
maiden bare in the Holy Grail, and said, ‘ Know that this child 
shall sit in the Perilous Seat, and shall win the Sangreal, and he 


A 7 Hhur mid his Knights, 65 

shall be a better man far than the good knight Sir Lancelot his 
father.’ Once more they kneeled and prayed before the golden 
vessel; once more the dove floated away, and the maiden van¬ 
ished as she came. 

On that day -was Sir Bors clean shriven ; and as he lay down 
on his couch at night, with his armour on, a light flashed round 
him, and there came in end-long a spear, whose head burned 
like a taper, and it gave him a grievous wound in the shoulder. 
Hard were now the toils of Sir Bors, for first he had to fight with 
a strong knight, and then with a huge lion ; but he beat off the 
one and smote the other. Then going forth into the court, he 
beheld a dragon with golden letters on his forehead which seemed 
to show the name of King Arthur, and there came an old leopard 
which struggled with the dragon, which spit an hundred dragons 
out of its mouth ; and the small dragons slew the great dragon 
and tare him in pieces. After this came an old man with two 
adders about his neck, and he sang on his harp an old song, how 
Joseph of Arimathie came into the land ; and when the song was 
ended, he bade Sir Bors depart, for nought there remained for 
him to do. Then came again the dove with the golden censer, 
and stayed the storm which had been raging; and again the 
court was full of sweet odours, and four children were seen bear¬ 
ing fair tapers, and an old man in the midst held a censer in one 
hand and in the other a spear which was called the spear of 
vengeance. 

Then said the old man to Bors, ‘ Go thou, and tell Sir Lancelot 
that because of his sins only is he hindered from seeing and doing 
the things which thou hast seen and done, for though in strength 
of arm none may be his match, yet in spiritual things there are 
many who are his betters.’ And as he spake, four ladies in poor 
array passed into a gleaming chamber, where a bishop kneeled 
before a silver altar; and as he looked up. Sir Bors saw hanging 
over his head a silver sword whose brightness dazzled his eyes, 
and he heard a voice which said, ‘ Go hence, for as yet thou art 
not worthy to be in this place.’ 

• On the morrow Sir Bors departed and went to Camelot, and 
told of the things which had happened to him in the house of 
King Belles at Corbin, and it was noised abroad that Elaine was 
the mother of Sir Lancelot’s child. 

At this time King Arthur made a great feast, and to it came 
Elaine the Fair, and there she saw Queen Guenevere ; but, though 
in countenance they made good cheer, neither rejoiced to see the 
other. But yet more grievous was the sorrow of Guenevere, 

1R 


66 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

when Sir Lancelot was once again taken from her by inchantment 
to the daughter of K ng Pelles ; and so wroth was she that when 
she next set eyes on Lancelot, she bade him depart for a false and 
traitorous knight and never to see her more. But even as he 
heard these words, the strong man fell as smitten by a sword: 
and when he woke from his swoon, he leaped out from the window 
and roamed as a madman in the woods, while twenty moons 
went round. 

Bitter was the anger and strife between Elaine and Gnenevere, 
when Sir Lancelot could nowhere be found. ‘ On thee lies the 
blame,’ said Elaine, ‘ for thou hast already a lord as noble as any 
that may be found in the earth ; and were it not for thee I should 
have the love of him who is the father of my child and having 
so said, she went her way, and King Arthur with a hundred 
knights brought her on her journey. But Guenevere tarried 
behind mourning, and Sir Bors saw her as the tears streamed 
down her cheeks. ‘ Eie on your weeping,’ he said; ‘ thou weepest 
only when thy tears will not undo thy sin. Alas! that ever Sir 
Lancelot or his kin saw thee.’ So said also Ector de Maris and 
Sir Lionel, and at their words Queen Guenevere fell down in a 
swoon ; but presently waking up from it, she knelt before those 
knights and with clasped hands besought them to seek Lancelot 
through forest and brake, by mountain and river. But though 
twenty knights sought him in every quarter, yet they found him 
not; and strange were the fortunes of many who went on the 
quest of Sir Lancelot. Many a day and month passed by, and 
still the search went on, and the bravest of them sware never to 
see Arthur’s court again until they should have found him. And 
even so it came to pass that Sir Percivale, as he journeyed on, met 
with Sir Ector, and neither knowing the other, they fought until 
both were sorely wounded ; but when they knew each other they 
grieved, because they thought they were smitten to the death 
and that they should not achieve the quest of Sir Lancelot. 

But even as they mourned and wept, the Holy Grail came by, 
bringing the savour of all spicery, and filling the chamber with 
dazzling light; and the pure Sir Percivale had a glimmering of 
that golden vessel, and his eyes could see dimly the fair maiden 
who bare it. Forthwith both were made whole ; and they gave 
thanks to God, and went their way, marvelling at the strange 
things which had happened to them; and Percivale learnt from 
his comrade that in the golden vessel was a part of the blood of 
our Lord Jesus Christ, which none but a perfect man might 
ev«r see. 


Arthur and his Knights. 


67 


CHAPTEE XIT. 

THE FINDING OF LANCELOT. 

Meanwhile Sir Lancelot wandered through the forests in hunger 
and nakedness, doing strange deeds of wild strength, and seeking 
to harm those who would fain have been his friends. Thus he 
would have slain the kindly Sir Bliant, who brought him to the 
White Castle, and there tended him. But though his body gained 
back its health, his mind was as much astray as before. Still, 
though Lancelot knew not himself, he yet knew when two knights 
pressed hard upon Sir Bliant, and breaking his bonds, he rushed 
to his aid, and smote them down, so that they were glad to flee 
away. So he tarried still with Sir Bliant, and it came to pass, 
one day, that as he walked in the forest, he found a horse 
saddled, and tied to a tree, and against the tree a spear was lean¬ 
ing. Seizing the weapon in his hand, he leaped lightly on the 
saddle, and soon he saw before him a huge boar, which, as the 
knight rode up to him, tare the body of the horse with his tusks, 
and gashed the thigh of Sir Lancelot also. Then Lancelot put 
forth his strength and smote off the boar’s head at a stroke; but 
the blood ran from his thigh in sf?reams, and he was well-nigh 
faint, when a hermit looked on him with pity and brought others 
to help, who placed him in the cart with the boar’s carcase, and 
bare him to the hermitage, where the hermit healed him of his 
wound. But though he gained strength of body under the good 
hermit’s care, yet was his mind still astray, and so it came about 
that one day he fled from the hermitage and ran to Corbin, the 
city of the fair Elaine; and as he ran along the town to the 
castle, the people jibed and jeered at him ; but in the castle they 
gave him food and shelter, for they thought as they looked upon 
him that they had never seen a man so goodly in form. 

Not long after this, a nephew of King Pelles, named Castor, 
was made knight, and gave away gowns to many ; and he sent a 
scarlet robe for Lancelot the Fool ; and when the mad knight was 
arrayed in it, he seemed the goodliest man in all the court. 
Wearing the robe, Lancelot strayed into the garden, and, lying 
down by a well-side he fell asleep : and there some maidens saw 
him and ran and told the fair Elaine. Then Elaine came hastily, 
and when she looked on him she knew the man who was the 
father of her child ; and she took counsel with King Pelles, and 
by his good-will the knight was borne into the chamber of a 


68 Popular Ro^nances of the Middle Ages. 

tower in which lay the Sangreal, and by the virtue of that holy 
vessel he was healed of all his sickness. 

When Sir Lancelot awoke and saw King Pelles with his 
daughter standing near, he was sore ashamed, and besought them 
to tell him how he had come thither; and Elaine told him all the 
story, how he had been kept as a fool and how he had been made 
sound again. ‘ Let no man know it,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘ for I am 
banished from King Arthur’s court for ever.’ Then after a fort¬ 
night he said to Elaine, ‘ What travel, care, and anguish I have 
had for thee, thou knowest well. Wilt thou then now for thy 
love go to thy father, and get of him a place where I may dwell % ’ 

‘ Yea,’ answered Elaine, * I will live and die with thee, and only 
for thy sake, and sure am I that there is nothing which my father 
will not give at my asking; and wherever thou art, there, doubt 
not, I will be also.’ So at her prayer King Pelles gave him as 
his abode the Castle of Bliant; but b«^ore they departed thither, 
Sir Castor asked him his name, and Lancelot said, ‘I am the 
knight Ill-doer.’ ‘ Nay,’ said Castor, ‘ thou seemest to me rather 
to be Sir Lancelot du Lake.’ ‘ Sir,’ answered Lancelot, ‘ you are 
no gentle knight: for were I Lancelot, and it pleased me to with¬ 
hold my name, why should it grieve you to keep my counsel, 
so you be not hurt thereby?’ Then Castor kneeled down 
and craved his pardon : and Lancelot said, ‘ It is easily given; ’ 
and so they went their way to the Castle of Bliant, which stood 
on a fair island girt with iron, with fair waters all round it; and 
Lancelot called it the Joyous Isle; but for all its joy Lancelot’s 
heart well-nigh burst with sorrow as each day he turned his eyes 
towards the land of Arthur and Guenevere. Yet for all his grief 
he was conqueror over all the knights who came to joust with him 
in the Joyous Isle; and at last came Sir Percivale of Wales with 
his friend Sir Ector, and he called to a maiden who stood on the 
shore of the island with a sparrowhawk on her arm, and asked 
her who was in the castle. Then said the maiden, ‘ We have 
here the mightiest knight and the fairest maiden in all the world.’ 
‘ What is his name ?’ asked Sir Percivale. ‘ He calls himself the 
knight that hath trespassed.’ ‘ And how came he thither ? ’ said 
Percivale. ‘ Truly,’ she said, ‘ he came as a madman into the 
city of Corbin, and there he was healed by the Holy Grail.’ 
Then went Percivale to the castle gate and bade the porter tell 
his lord that a knight had come who would joust with him ; and 
straightway Lancelot hastened into the lists. Fierce was the 
tight and long: and when their breath was well-nigh spent. Sir 
Pet ivale bade Lancelot tell him his name. ‘1 am the 111-doing 


Arthur a 7 id his Knights. 69 

Knight/ he said; ‘and who art thou V ‘ My name/ he answered, 
‘is Percivale of Wales.’ ‘Alas!’ said Lancelot, ‘that I should 
have fought with one of my fellows;’ and so saying he flung away 
his shield and his sword; and Percivale, marvelling much, 
charged him strictly to tell him his true name. Then he said, 
‘ I am Lancelot du Lake, King Ban’s son of Ben wick.’ ‘Ah mel’ 
said Percivale, ‘ what have I done. Thee was I sent to seek, and 
two years long have I sought thee wearily; and on yonder bank 
stands thy brother Sir Ector.’ And when Sir Lancelot had a 
sight of him, he ran to him and took him in his arms, and long 
time they wept over each other for joy; and Elaine told all the 
story, how Lancelot had come to Corbin and to the Joyous Isle. 

So the days went on ; and after a while Sir Percivale asked 
Lancelot whether he would journey with them to Arthur’s court. 
‘ Nay,’ he answered, ‘ it may not be.’ Then his brother besought 
him, telling him of the grievous sorrow of the king and the 
queen, and how all longed to see again the knight who was more 
spoken of than any other knight then living, and that never any 
could be more welcome at the court than he. ‘ Well,’ said Lance¬ 
lot, ‘ I will go with you,’ and they made ready for the journey ; 
and with a sad heart the fair Elaine saw the man depart to whom 
she had given her love. 

Great was the joy at Camelot when Lancelot once more stood 
among his fellows of the Pound Table ; and as the queen listened 
to the tale of all that had befallen him, she wept as though she 
would have died. Then said the king, * Truly, I marvel. Sir 
Lancelot, why ye went out of your mind. There be many who 
deem it was for the love of fair Elaine, King Pelles’ daughter.’ 
‘ My lord,’ answered Lancelot, ‘ if I have done any folly, I have 
had my reward : ’ and the king said no more ; but all Sir Lance¬ 
lot’s kinsfolk knew for whom he went out of his mind. 

Then was it published abroad that on the feast of Pentecost 
next coming there should be a great tourney. To Camelot there¬ 
fore Tristram took his journey at the prayer of the fair Isolte, 
but because she would not go with him to add to his labour, he 
went forth alone and unarmed. On the way he came upon two 
knights, of whom the one had smitten the other, and the knight 
who had done this was Palamides. Then as Tristram stood 
before him, Palamides said, ‘ The time is come for dressing our 
old sores. Thou art unarmed. Put thou on this knight’s har¬ 
ness, for our quarrel shall be this day fought out.’ And it was 
fought fiercely and long; but for all his striving Palamides could 
not master Tristram, and at the last he said, ‘ It may be that my 


70 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

offence against you is not so great but that we may be frienda 
Let us then bring the strife to an end: for all that I have 
offended is and was for the love of the fair Isolte ; and against 
her I have done no wrong.’ ‘ Yea/ said Tristram, ‘ God pardon 
thee as I forgive thee.’ So they rode to Carlisle together, and 
when Sir Palamides the Saracen had been made a Christian by 
the bishop, they journeyed on thence to be at Arthur’s court by 
Pentecost. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE SHRIVING OF SIR LANCELOT. 

When the vigil of the feast was come, there entered the great 
hall of Camelot a maiden who knelt before the king And prayed 
him to say where Sir Lancelot might be. ‘ Yonder he is,’ 
answered the king. Then said the maiden to Lancelot, ‘ I bring 
thee greetings from King Pelles, and I charge thee to come with 
me.’ ‘ What would ye have with me 1 ’ asked Lancelot. ‘ That 
thou shalt know,’ she said, ‘ when we have reached our journey’s 
end.’ Then came the queen and said. ‘ Wilt thou leave us now 1’ 
‘Madam,’ answered the damsel, ‘ he shall be with you again on 
the morrow.’ 

Then riding with the maiden. Sir Lancelot came to an abbey 
of nuns, and being led into the abbess’s chamber he saw there 
Sir Bors and Sir Lionel; and presently twelve nuns brought in 
Galahad and prayed Lancelot to make him a knight, for at no 
worthier hands might he receive the order. And when Lancelot 
knew that the desire came from the youth himself, he said, ‘ To¬ 
morrow morn I will make thee a knight: ’ and so on the morn at 
prime it was done; and Lancelot said, ‘ Cod make thee a good 
man; for one that is fairer in form no man may ever see. And 
now wilt thou come with me to King Arthur’s court 1 ‘ Kay,’ 

he said, ‘ not now.’ So Lancelot went on his way with Bors and 
Lionel to Camelot; and there when all were gathered together, 
they saw in the Perilous Seat words newly written in letters of 
gold, which said, ‘ When four hundred winters and fifty-four have 
been accomplished since the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ 
this seat shall be filled.’ ‘ Then/ said Lancelot, ‘ it should be 
filled this day, for this is the feast of Pentecost, and further four 
hundred years and fifty-four; and if it please you, I would that 



Arthur and his Knights, 71 

none may see these letters until he he come for whom this seat 
has been made ready.’ So over them they placed a cloth of silk: 
and presently a squire came in, who told them of a great stone 
floating down the river, and of a great sword which was stuck in 
tlie stone. ‘ I will see this marvel,’ said the king: and when 
they came to the river, they beheld the red marble stone and the 
jewelled sword, round the pommel of which the words were 
written, ‘ Never shall man take me hence but he by whose side I 
ought to hang, and he shall be the best knight of the world.’ 
Then said Arthur to Lancelot, ‘ That art thou, and so the sword 
is thine,’ ‘ Nay,’ answered Lancelot soberly, ‘ I ween not that I 
am the best knight; and he who seeks to take that sword and 
fails shall receive from it a wound that he shall not long after 
remain whole.’ 

Then the king turned to Sir'Gawaine and said, ^ Make trial of 
the sword, I pray you, for my love : ’ but Sir Gawaine would not 
until the king charged him on his obedience. Yet though he 
took up the sword by the handle, he could not stir it. Then the 
king thanked him, but Lancelot said, ‘ So sorely shall this sword 
touch you that yon shall wish you had never touched it for the 
best castle in the realm.’ Turning then to Percivale, the king 
asked if he would try the sword, and Percivale said, ‘ Yes, gladly, 
to bear Gawaine fellowship,’ but neither could he stir it. 

When after this they sat down to the feast, and all the seats 
were filled except the Perilous Siege, on a sudden all the doors 
and windows of the place were shut of themselves, and into the 
darkened hall came, none knew whence, an old man clad all in 
white, leading a young knight who had neither sword nor shield, 
but only a scabbard hanging by his side. And the old man stood 
before the king and said, ‘ I bring you here one who is of kin to 
Joseph of Arimathie, and who shall achieve the marvels of this 
court and of strange realms.’ Then said he to the youth, ‘ Follow 
me,’ and leading him to the Perilous Seat, he lifted up the silken 
cloth and found beneath it the words written, ‘ This is the seat 
of Galahad the High Prince.’ Then the old man placed the 
youth in that seat, and departed. And all the knights of the 
Round Table marvelled that one who was a child durst sit in the 
Perilous Seat: and Sir Lancelot looking earnestly at the youth, 
saw that he was his own son, and his heart was filled with joy. 
Then were these tidings brought to Queen Guenevere, and she 
said, ‘ I may well suppose he is the son of Sir Lancelot and King 
Pelles’ daughter.’ And the king went to Galahad and bade him 
welcome, for he should move many good knights to the quest of 


72 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

tlie Sangreal, and should bring to an end things which none othet 
knight had ever been able to achieve. So having said, the king' 
led Galahad to the stone in the river, and the queen went with 
them. And Galahad said in few words, ‘For the surety of this 
sword I brought none with me, and here by my side hangs the 
scabbard.’ Then laying his hand on the sword, he drew it lightly 
from the stone, and as he put it in his sheath, he said, ‘ Now have 
I the sword which was sometime the sword of the good knight 
Balin, who with it slew his brother Balan, because of the grievous 
stroke which Balan gave to my grandsire King Belles, and which 
is not yet whole, nor shall be till I heal him.’ And even as he 
spake, they saw a maiden riding toward them on a w’hite palfrey, 
and when" she came up to them, she called to Sir Lancelot and 
said that he had lost his ancient name. ‘ How so % ’ asked the 
knight. ‘ This morning,’ she answered, ‘ thou wast the best man 
living: and now there is one better than thou.’ ‘Nay,’ said 
Lancelot, ‘ I know well I was never the best.’ ‘ Yes,* answered 
the maiden, ‘ that were ye, and of all sinful men on the earth 
thou art so still.’ 

That day said King Arthur to his knights of the Bound Table, 

‘ Ye will all depart, I know, to this search for the Holy Grail, and 
never shall I see you all together again : therefore will I now see 
you all in the meadow of Camelot, that, when ye are dead, men 
may say the good knights were all together on such a day.* So 
were they gathered on the field of Camelot, and among all the 
knights the goodliest and the mightiest was Galahad. After the 
jousting the king made him unlace his helm that the queen might 
see his face : and Guenevere said, ‘ WeL may men say that he is 
Lancelot’s son, for never were two men more like.* 

In the evening, when they had prayed in the great minster, 
and as the knights sat each in his own place, they heard cracking 
of thunder as though the hall would be riven through : and in 
the midst of the crashing and darkness a light entered, clearer by 
seven times than ever they saw day, and all were alighted of tho 
grace of the Holy Ghost: and as each knight looked on his 
fellows, behold all were fairer than any on whom their eyes had 
ever rested yet. But all sate dumb, and in the still silence came 
the Holy Grail, covered with white samite, but none might see it, 
or the hand which bare it; and with it came all sweet odours, 
and each knight had such food and drink as he loved best in the 
world ; and then the holy vessel was borne away, they knew not 
whither. Then were their tongues loosed, and the king gave 
thanks for that which they had seen. But Sir Gawaine said, 


Arthur and his K 7 iights, 73 

We have had this day all that our hearts would wish, hut wo 
might not see the Holy Grail, so heedfully was it covered ; and 
therefore now I vow with the morrow’s morn to depart hence in 
quest of the holy vessel and never to return until I have seen it 
more openly; and if I may not achieve this, I shall come back as 
one that may not win against the will of God.’ So vowed also the 
most part among the knights of the Round Table. 

Then was the king stricken with sorrow. ‘ Thou hast well 
nigh slain me,’ he said, ‘ with thy vow; for thou hast reft me of 
the fairest fellowship and the truest knighthood that ever were 
seen together in any realm of the world. I have loved them as 
well as my life ; and well I know that, when we are sundered, we 
shall never more meet all together on this earth again.’ ‘Comfort 
yourself,’ said Lancelot. ‘ It shall be to us a greater honour than 
if we die in any other place ; and die we must.’ ‘ Ah, Lancelot,’ 
said Arthur, ‘ it is my love for you all which makes me speak 
thus; for never had Christian king so many worthy knights 
around him.’ But greater still w^as the grief of Queen Gueue- 
vere; and many of the ladies would have gone with the knights 
whom they loved: but an old knight came among them saying, 
that the knights must go forth alone, or else they would never 
achieve the task. 

On the morrow, when the service was done in the great minster, 
the king took account of the number of the knights who had vowed 
to search for the Holy Grail; and they were one hundred and 
fifty, all knights of the Round Table. But Guenevere was in her 
chamber : and thither went Lancelot to take his leave, and then 
they rode all through the streets of Camelot, rich and poor weep¬ 
ing as they went. 

Thus far Sir Galahad was without a shield; but on the fourth 
day he came to a white abbey, where, in a chamber, he found two 
knights of the Round Table, King Bagdemagus and Sir Uwaine ; 
and when he asked them why they were there, they told him how 
they had heard that in that place was a shield which no man might 
wear except to his grievous hurt; but Bagdemagus said that 
nevertheless he would seek to bear it away. On the morrow a 
monk warned him not to touch it unless he were the best man in 
the world ; ‘ That I ween I am not,’ said Bagdemagus, ‘ yet will 
I make trial.’ So he bore it away, and a knight met him 
and smote him and took away the shield, and bade the squire of 
King Bagdemagus carry it to Sir Galahad, to whom the shield 
belonged. So Galahad won his shield, and Bagdemagus escaped 
hard with his life. Now Sir Uwaine would fain have gone with 


74 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

Galahad, but Galahad would take only the squire who brought 
him the shield that had been made long ago for good King Evelake, 
and which had won him the victory against the paynim Tolleme 
and his people. And the squire’s name was Melias, the son of 
the King of Denmark; and Galahad tnade him a knight. 

Many days they rode together, until at length they came to a 
place where the roads forked, and on the cross which was there 
set up they saw letters written which said, ‘ He who goes to the 
right hand shall not go out of that way again, if he be a good 
man and a worthy knight : and he who goes on the left, shall 
have his strength soon tried.’ Then Melias besought Sir Galahad 
to let him take the left path, and after a while Galahad suffered 
him to go. So on rode Melias, and passing through a forest, 
came to a fair meadow, in which was a lodge of boughs, and in 
that lodge a chair, and on the chair a golden crown, while on the 
earth were spread rich cloths and on these were rich and rare 
dainties. For these Melias cared not; but taking up the crown 
he rode onwards. Full soon, however, he heard a voice behind 
him, which bade him set down the crown which was not his, and 
defend himself. Short was the battle, for the knight who had 
overtaken Melias smote him with his spear, and taking away the 
crown left him well nigh dead. In this plight Sir Galahad found 
him, and when he had smitten the knight who had wounded him, 
and yet another knight who came forth against him, he took up 
Melias and bare him to an abbey, where an old monk said that 
within the term of seven weeks he would heal him. Then 
Galahad told the monk how they two were in quest of the Holy 
Grail; and the old man said, ‘For this has he been thus wounded; 
and strange is it that any durst take on himself the order of 
knighthood without clean confession. For the right-hand way 
was the way of the good man, the other the way of sinners. 
Pride it was which took this knight away from Galahad, and the 
taking of the crown was a sin of covetousness and theft; and the 
two knights whom Galahad smote were the two deadly sins which 
had conquered the knight Sir Melias.’ Then said Galahad, ‘Now 
I go my way, and God keep you all; ’ and Melias answered, ‘ As 
soon as I can ride again, I will seek you.’ So Galahad went on 
his journey, and came to a castle which was called the Castle of 
the Maidens, because seven knights had seized it, and sworn that 
never lady nor knight should pass there, but they should be shut 
up within it, and many maidens had they thus devoured. These 
Galahad rescued, and the seven knights were slain by Sir Gawaine 


Arthur and his Knights, 75 

and Gareth and Uwaine, who were ridine tocrether in search of 
Galahad. 

But again the pure knight had gone on his way from the 
Maidens’ Castle, and Lancelot and Percivale met him. But they 
knew him not, for he was in new disguise, and they ran on him 
with their lances. With two stout blows Galahad smote them 
down and passed on, while a recluse, who dwelt hard by, cried 
aloud, ‘ God be with thee, thou best knight of the world.’ Then 
knew Lancelot and Percivale that it was Galahad : but though 
they hastened after him, yet they could not find him; and Lance¬ 
lot, riding on, came to an old chapel, within which he found an 
altar arrayed in silken cloths, and a silver candlestick which bare 
six great candles. But there was no place by which he could 
enter; and unlacing his helm, he uugirded his sword and lay 
down upon his shield to sleep before the stony cross which stood 
hard by. Presently, half-asleep and half awake, he saw two white 
palfreys bearing a sick knight on a litter, and as they stood before- 
the cross, the knight prayed to God that his sorrow might lea'.'e 
him, since he had endured long for little trespass. Then the 
candlestick wdth the six tapers came before the cross, but Lance¬ 
lot saw not the hand that bare it, and with it came the silver 
table, and the vessel of the Sangreal which he had seen in the 
house of King Pescheur, Straightway then the knight went on 
hands and knees until he touched the holy vessel and kissed it, 
and w'as healed of the sickness, and the vessel and the silver table 
vanished away. Then the sick knight’s squire asked him how he 
did, and he said, ‘ Eight well, 1 thank God; through the holy 
vessel I am healed ; but strange to me it seems that this knight 
had no power to awake when the holy vessel was brought hither.’ 
‘ Doubtless,’ said the squire, ‘ he is in some deadly sin : but here 
I have brought all your arms save helm and sword, and by my 
counsel thou wilt take the sword and helm of this knight.’ And 
even so that knight did, and he took Lancelot’s horse also. 

When Lancelot waked, he doubted whither that which he had 
seen were dreams or not, and he heard a voice which said, 
*■ Harder than the stone, more bitter than the wood, barer than 
the fig-tree’s leaf, go thou from this holy place.’ So heavy and 
grievous was Sir Lancelot when these words fell on his ears, that 
he wept sore and cursed the day on which he was born. ‘ My 
sin has brought me into great dishonour,’ he said. ^ So long as I 
sought, earthly fame, all things went well with me, and never was 
I discomfited in my quarrel; but now, when I am in quest of 
holy things, my old sin so shames me that no power to stir 


76 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

remained within me when the Sangreal appeared before me.’ Sc 
he mourned till the day broke, and he heard the birds sing, and 
their song brought him some comfort. But missing his horse and 
harness, he went sorrowing to a high hill where was a hermitage, 
and then he made confession to the hermit, how for many a long 
year he had loved a queen beyond measure, and how all his great 
and good deeds had been done for her sake, or to win himself 
worship to cause him to be the better beloved, and not for the 
sake of God only. Then said the hermit, ‘ I will counsel you if 
you will promise to me not to come in that queen’s fellowship, as 
much as ye may forbear; ’ and Lancelot made the promise. ‘See 
that your heart and your mouth accord,’ said the hermit, ‘and you 
shall have more worship that ever before.’ Then Lancelot told 
him of the strange words which he had heard; and the hermit 
said, ‘ Marvel not, for God loves you well. The voice called thee 
liarder than stone, for thou wouldest not leave thy sin for any 
goodness that God sent to thee, and wouldest not be softened 
neither by water nor by fire. But take good heed. In all the 
world, no knight hath received the grace that thou hast. God 
• hath given thee fairness and wit, prowess and hardiness, and now, 
whether thou wilt or wilt not. He will suffer thee to go no longer 
alone, but He will have thee know Him. More bitter wast thou 
called than wood, because thou hast in thee the bitterness of sin ; 
and barer art thou of fruit in good thought and good will than 
the fig-tree which was cursed because leaves only were found 
thereon.’ 

So, when Lancelot had confessed his sin and sought for mercy, 
the hermit assoiled him and prayed him to tarry with him that 
day.’ ‘ That will I gladly,’ said the knight, ‘ for I have neither 
helm, horse, nor sword.’ ‘ On the morn,’ said the hermit, ‘ I will 
bring to you all that belongs to yon.’ 


CHAPTEE XIV. 

THE TEMPTATION OF SIR PERCTVALE. 

And now the faith of the good Sir Percivale was to be tried. 
For a little while he tarried with the recluse who greeted Sir 
Galahad as the best knight of the world, and when Percivale told 
her his name she rejoiced greatly, for she was his mother’s sister; 
and they talked together of many things, and she told him how 



Arthur and his Knights, 77 

Merlin had made the Eound Table in token 6f the roiindness of 
the world, and how they who are made its fellows forsake all 
other for the sake of that fellowship. ‘So,’ she said, ‘has it been 
with thee, for since thou wast admitted to that company, thou 
hast not seen thy mother, and now her days are ended on earth. 
But go thy way to the Castle of Carbonek, and there shalt thou, 
get tidings of the good knight Galahad whom thou seekest.’ 

So Percivale departed and came to a monastery where on the 
morn he heard mass, and nigh the altar, on a bed covered with 
cloth of silk and gold, he saw one lie with a crown of gold on his 
head. But when it came to the sacring, the man rose up and un¬ 
covered his head, and Percivale saw that his body was full of 
great wounds on the shoulders, arms, and face, and when ho 
asked who he might be, one of the monks said, ‘ This is King 
Evelake whom Joseph of Arimathie made a Christian, and there¬ 
after he sought to be with the Sangreal, which he followed till ho 
was struck almost blind, and Evelake prayed that he might not 
die till he should have seen the good knight of his blood, of the 
ninth degree, who should win that holy vessel; and when he had 
thus prayed, a voice was heard saying, ‘ Thou shalt not die till he 
have kissed thee; and when he shall come, thine eyes shall be 
clear again, and thy wounds shall be healed.’ 

As Percivale journeyed on from the abbey, he met twenty 
men of arms bearing a dead knight; and when they learnt that 
he was come from Arthur’s court, they cried, ‘ Slay him; ’ and 
though Sir Percivale fought stoutly, slain he would have been, 
had not Sir Galahad appeared on a sudden and smitten down a 
man at every blow, until those fled who remained alive, and Gala- 
had departed after them. But Percivale could not keep him in 
sight for he had no horse; and at last being wearied, he fell asleep, 
and waking saw a woman standing by, who said that if he would 
promise to do her will she would bring him a horse. This he 
promised, and straightway she brought him a coal-black steed; 
and on its back he rode four days till he came to a great water 
into which the steed would have plunged : but Percivale feared 
whether he could overpass it, and he made the sign of the cross 
on his forehead. Then with a mighty leap the horse went into 
the water, which seemed to be set on fire, and Percivale knew 
that he had been set free from a demon, and he spent the night 
praying and thanking God. Then going on into a valley, he saw 
a serpent bearing a lion’s cub by the neck, and a great lion went 
behind it roaring. Presently there was a battle between the lion 
and the serpent, and Percivale took part with the kindlier beast 


78 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

and smote the serpent with a deadly wound, and the lion in great 
joy fawned on the knight, who stroked him on the neck and 
shoulders. All that night the lion slept by the side of Sir Perci- 
vale who dreamed that two ladies came by, the younger on a lion, 
the elder on a serpent; and the younger bidding him be ready on 
the morrow at her lord’s command to fight with the strongest 
champion in the world, vanished away, and then the other com¬ 
plained that he had done her wrong by slaying her serpent when 
it fought with the lion. ‘ Why didst thou wound it ? ’ she asked, 
and &rcivale said, ‘Because I fought for the kindlier beast.' 
Then she said that he must make amends for his murder by be¬ 
coming her man. ‘That will I not,’ he said. ‘Be it so,’ she 
answered, ‘ then will I seize thee if I can find thee at any time un¬ 
guarded : ’ and she too vanished away, and Percivale’s dream was 
ended. On the morn he rose up weak and feeble, and going to 
the seashore he saw coming towards him a ship, at whose head ‘ 
stood an old man in priestly garb, and when Percivale asked him 
who he was, he said, ‘ I am of a strange country, and hither I 
come to comfort you.’ Then Percivale told him of his dream and 
prayed him to expound it; and the priest said, ‘ She who rode on 
the lion is the new law of the holy Church, and she came to warn 
thee of the great battle that shall befall thee : and she on the ser¬ 
pent is the old law, and the serpent is the fiend,—and when she 
asked thee to become her man, it was that she might tempt thee 
to renounce thy baptism.’ 

There Percivale abode till midday with the lion; and at noon 
a ship came toward him, bearing a beautiful maiden clad as a 
queen, and she besought the knight to help her to win back her 
inheritance, ‘ For,’ she said, ‘I dwelt with the greatest man of the 
world, and I had more pride of my beauty than I ought, and I 
said some words that pleased him not; so he drave me away from 
my heritage without pity for me or for my court. If then thou 
art of the Bound Table, it is thy part to help those who are in 
trouble.’ So Percivale promised, and she thanked him : but the 
sun was hot, and she bade one of the women set up a pavilion 
under which the knight might sleep, and before him she placed 
costly food and wine, and with the wine Sir Percivale deemed he 
was somewhat more heated than he ought to be. As he gazed on 
the lady, she seemed now to grow fairer and fairer, until he 
proffered her his love; but she said him nay, unless he would 
swear never to do henceforth anything but that which she might 
command him. So Percivale sware the oath, but as he drew near 
to her, he spied his sword which lay on the ground, with the red 


Arthur ajid his Kiiights, 79 

cross in its pommel, and remembering his knighthood and tlie 
words of the good priest, he made the sign of the cross on his 
torehead, and straightway the pavilion changed into smoke and a 
black cloud, and on the sea he saw the vessel bearing away the 
lady who wept and wailed, and it seemed that all the water burnt 
after her. 

And Sir Percivale too wept and mourned for his wickedness ; 
but presently came again the ship which he had seen the day be¬ 
fore, and in it came again the good priest, who asked him how he 
had fared, and Percivale told him all. ‘ Did’st thou not know 
the maiden P the old man asked him; and he said, ‘Nay, but I 
know now that the fiend sent her to shame me.’ ‘ 0, good knight,’ 
answered the priest, ‘thou art a fool, for that maiden was'^the 
master fiend himself who was beaten out of heaven for his sin, 
and who would have conquered thee but for the grace of God.’ 
Wherefore take good heed.’ So saying, the old man vanished 
away, and Percivale went into the ship, which bare him thence. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

THE VISION OF SIR LANCELOT. 

After three days the hermit with whom Sir Lancelot tarried gave 
him a horse, a helm, and a sword; and departing at noontide the 
knight journeyed on, until he came to a chapel where was an old 
man to whom he told his quest of the Holy Grail. ‘ Seek it ye 
may,’ said the man, ‘ but there is sin on thee, and while it be there, 
thou shalt never see it.’ Then Lancelot asked what he should do ; 
and the old man charged him to eat no flesh and to drink no wine 
and to hear mass daily so long as he might search for the holy 
vessel. Then riding onward, he came to an old cross, as the dark¬ 
ness was closing in: and putting his horse to feed, he kneeled 
down and prayed, and then lay down to sleep. Presently in a 
dream he saw a man compassed with stars and with a golden 
crown on his head, and behind him came seven kings and two 
knights, and all these worshipped at the cross, holding up their 
hands towards heaven. Then the clouds opened and an old man 
came down with a company of angels, and gave unto each hi? 
blessing and called them true knights and good servants; but to 
one of the two knights he said, ‘ I have lost all that I have set in 



8 o Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

thee; for thou hast fought and warred for the pleasure of the 
world more than to please me; and therefore thou shalt be brought 
to nought, if thou yield me not my treasure/ 

On the morrow Sir Lancelot rode on, pondering much the vision 
wliich he had seen. Soon he met the knight who had taken away 
from him his horse, his helm, and his sword; and doing battle 
with him, he got them back again, and left him the horse on which 
he rode. Going on till niglitfall, he came to the abode of a her¬ 
mit'to whom he told his dream and asked its meaning; and the 
hermit said, ‘ The seven kings are thy forefathers, of whoni the 
seventh is thy father King Ban : the two knights are thyself and 
tliy son Galahad, and of thee it was said that God will not love 
thee if thou yield Him not up His treasure, for little thank hast 
thou given to God for all the virtues God hath lent thee/ Then 
said Lancelot, ‘The good kniglit whom thou callest my son should 
pray for me that I fall not into sin again.’ ‘ Be sure,’ said the 
hermit, ‘ that thou dost hire the better for his prayers; but the 
son shall not bear the iniquity of the father nor the father bear 
the iniquity of his son.’ 

The next day Lancelot riding onwards came to a castle where 
knights clad in black armour and on black horses were being 
worsted by knights clad in white armour and on white horses; 
and Lancelot thought to increase his worship by striking in with 
the weaker party. Doughty as ever were his blows : but mortal 
man must tire at last, and Sir Lancelot at length was borne down, 
faint with loss of blood. ‘ Ah me,' he said, ‘ when I fought to win 
jwowess for myself, never man had the better of me; now when 
I strive to aid others, I am myself overcome/ 

So being left all alone he fell asleep ; and there came before him 
in a vision an old man who said, ‘ Lancelot, Lancelot, why is thy 
mind turned lightly towards its deadly sin 1 ’ and then he vanished 
away. Much musing on these words, Lancelot when he woke 
rode on until he came to the dwelling of a recluse to whom he 
told all that he had seen and what had befallen him, and she said, 
‘ The black and the white knights were the earthly knights and 
the spiritual knights; and thou, seeing the sinners overcome 
thoughtest to win glory for thyself by hastening to their aid; but 
the white knights saw the Sangreal which thine eyes may not see, 
and so gained strength for their arms, greater than the strength 
even of thy arm, though thou hast not thy peer among earthly 
sinful men.’ 

Then the recluse commended Lancelot to God, and he rode on 
till he came to a gloomy river, over which his horse bore him 


Arthur and his Kfiights. 8i 

safely; but when he was on the other side, there came a black 
knight, who slew Lancelot’s horse and vanished away. And 
Lancelot took liis helm and shield, and went on his way humbly. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE TRIAL OF SIR BORS. 

There was aching of heart not for Lancelot only. For to many 
a knight of the Round Table the months rolled wearily on while 
tliey sought in vain for the Sangreal. So was it with Sir Gawaine 
and Sir Ector de Maris, and much they complained each to the 
other of the weariness of their quest. At length, as they rode 
one day together they came to an old chapel, into which they 
went to pray, and after they had prayed they fell asleep : and in 
his dream Gawaine saw a hundred and fifty bulls, all black save 
three, which were white, but of these three one had a black spot; 
and these three were tied with strong cords ; and the other bulls 
went off to seek better pasture, and some came back again so lean 
and weak that scarcely might they stand. Rut to Ector, as he 
slept, it seemed that he was riding with Lancelot his brother in 
quest of that which they should not find ; and another came who 
took Lancelot off his horse and placed him on an ass, upon which 
he rode till he came to a fair well, but when Lancelot stooped 
down to drink of it, the water sank from him, and when he saw 
this he rose up and departed by the way by which he had come. 

When they awoke they told each his dream; and even as they 
spake, a hand bare to the elbow, covered with red samite, and 
holding a clear burning candle, came into the chapel and again 
vanislied away, and they heard a voice which said, ‘ Knights of 
evil faith and poor belief may not come to the adventures of the 
Holy Grail.’ 

Then departing from the chapel, the two knights went on ; and 
upon the road they met with a knight who would joust with Sir 
Gawaine. And when they had fought awhile, Gawaine smote 
him harder than he had weened, and the knight prayed Gawaine 
to take him to some abbey that he might make confession before 
he died. ‘ What is thy namel’ said Gawaine. I am Uwaine les 
Avoutres,’ he answered, ‘ the son of King Uriens.’ ‘ Alas ! ’ said 
Gawaine, ‘that I should slay one of my fellows of the Round 

F 



82 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

Table.’ Yet so must it be, for when the spear-head was drawn 
from the wound, Uwaine died. 

In sadness and sorrow Ector and Gawaine rode on to the 
abode of the hermit Nacien, to whom they told their dreams 
and all that had befallen them; and the hermit told them 
the meaning of their visions. To Gawaine he said, ‘ The fair 
meadow is humility and patience—things ever fresh and green. 
The black bulls are the company of the Round Table—knights 
black with sins, save three, who are Sir Galahad, Sir Percivale, 
and Sir Bors; but the spot of one sin mars the pure whiteness in 
Sir Bors. The going away of the black bulls was the departure 
of the knights on the quest of the Sangreal without confession, 
and so they came back into waste countries, where many of them 
shall die.’ And to Ector he said, ‘ The thing which ye shall not 
find is the Sangreal: but the placing of Lancelot on the ass is the 
humbling of the knight, and the water which sank away from him 
is the grace of God, in desire of which he went back by the way 
b}^ which he had come.’ 

Great also were the griefs and sufferings of Sir Bors, when he 
had departed from Camelot in search of the holy vessel. As in 
one place he looked up to the branches of the trees over his head, 
he saw a great bird on an old and dry stem smiting itself that its 
blood might feed its young birds which were dead of hunger; and 
the great bird died, but the young birds lived again and were 
strong. Then going on, he came to a castle where the lady lodged 
him richly; but while he was there, there came a messenger from 
another woman her enemy who said to the lady of the castle, that 
if she found not a knight to fight in her behalf she should be 
driven forth and despoiled of all her goods and lands. So Bors 
fought and conquered in her quarrel, but he refused all recom¬ 
pense which the lady would have bestowed on him. 

As he journeyed thence, he met first two knights who were 
leading his brother Lionel bound and stripped, and scourging him 
with thorns : but before he could rush to rescue him, there came 
another knight who was striving to force a maiden into the lonely 
parts of the forest, and the maiden besought him to deliver her 
out of his hand ; and for a moment Bors knew not what to do : 
but the cries of the maiden pierced his heart, and he fought with 
and smote the man who was doing her wrong. But when he had 
placed her in safety, he went onwards to seek his brother Lionel; 
and there met him a man clad in dark raiment and riding on a 
black horse who asked him what he sought; and he said, ‘I seek 
my brother whom two knights were beating as they drove him on 


Arthur and his Knights. 83 

the road.* * It boots not to seek him/ said the man, * for he is 
dead, and here is his body : ’ and it seemed to Bors that the body 
which he showed him was the body of Lionel. So he took it up, 
and placing it on his saddle bow, he brought it to an old chapel, 
where they placed it in a tomb of marble. ‘ Now leave him here,’ 
said the other to Bors, ‘ and to-morrow we will come back to do 
him service.’ ‘Art thou a priest?’ asked Bors: and when he said 
‘ Yea,’ Bors told him of a dream which he had, and which showed 
him two birds, one white as a swan, and the other swart as a 
raven, and each bird in its turn ])romised him riches and wealth 
if he would tend and serve it; and how again he had dreamed and 
had seen, as he thought, two flowers, like lilies, and the one would 
have taken the other’s whiteness but one came and parted them 
that they might not touch each other, and then out of every flower 
came forth many flowers and fruit in plenty. Then the priest 
told Bors that the white bird was a laily that loved him truly, and 
would die if he refused her his love; he said too that, if Bors said 
nay to her. Sir Lancelot also should die, and so he should be the 
slayer of his brother Lionel and of Lancelot du Lake, whereas 
he had gone about to rescue a maiden who pertained not at ah to 
him. I'lien he led Bors to a high tower, where knights and ladies 
yelcomed and unarmed him, and made him such cheer that he 
forgot all his sorrow and anguish and took no more thought for 
his brother or for Lancelot; and as he thus lay feasting, there 
came a lady fairer than all w ho were around him, and more richly 
arrayed than even Queen CJucnevere : then said they, ‘This is the 
lady whom we serve, and she it is who loves you and will have no 
other knight but you.’ Then, as tlu'y talked together, the lady 
straightly asked him for his love, until Bors was sore vexed and 
said, ‘ There is none in the world to whom I may grant it, for my 
brother is lying dead whom evil men have slain.’ And when she 
saw that she asked in vain, she said that she would die, and her 
maidens followed- her to the battlements. IStill he heard their 
cry, and moved with i)ity he made the sign of the cross ; and there 
was a great crash as if an army of fiends were about, and tower 
ind chapel, priest and maidens, all vanished away. 

Thankful and glad was Sir Bors for his rescuing, as he rode on 
to an abbey, where he told the abbot of his vision of the great 
bird feeding her young. Then said the abbot, that the love of 
the great bird was the love of Jesus Christ, for the blood that the 
great fowl bled brought back the young from death to life, and 
the bad tree was the world which of itself can have no fruit. 
‘ But all that came alter/ said the abbot, ‘ was to lead thee into 


84 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

error, and the fiend who spake with thee in guise of a priest lied 
to thee about thy brother Lionel, for he is still alive; and here is 
the dream of the dry tree and the white lilies. The dry tree is 
thy brother, who is without virtue and a murderer; and the 
flowers are the knight and the maiden whom he sought to injure, 
and hadst thou left these first to help thy brother, thou wouldst 
have gone to the succour of a rotten tree.’ 

Then, parting from the abbot, Sir Bors went his way and came 
to a castle where they told him of a great tournament presently 
to be held there, and he thought to be there himself if he might 
have the fellowship of his brother or of some other knights of the 
Bound Table. So thinking, he wandered to a hermitage in the 
forest, and there at the chapel door he found Sir Lionel all 
armed, and Bors went up to embrace him for joy and gladness. 
But his brother cried out as he drew near, ‘ Nay, come not nigh 
me, you left me to be scourged and slain, and for that misdeed 
thou shalt die.’ In vain Sir Bors sought to soften him and win 
forgiveness. ‘ Forgive thee will I never; and if I get the upper 
hand, thou diest.’ So madly raged Lionel that Bors wist not 
wdiat to do, for it seemed shame to him and grief to fight with 
his brother : and when Lionel saw that Bors would not fight, he 
rode upon him, and then lighting off his horse took him by the 
helmet and would have smitten off his head, when the hermit 
came and strove to stay him for very shame. But Sir Lionel 
turned savagely and slew the good old man, and again was about 
to smite Sir Bors, when a knight of the Bound Table rode up 
hastily, and seizing Lionel by the shoulders said, ‘ Wilt thou slay 
thy brother, the worthiest knight in the world 1 ‘ Nay, if thou 

seek to hinder me,’ said Lionel, ‘ I will slay thee first and him 
afterwards.’ At these words the knight, whose name was Col- 
grevance, made ready for the fight; and as they strove together, 
the heart of Sir Bors well nigh burst with grief and shame. 
But at the last the good Sir Colgrevance was slain, and Lionel 
rushed once more to kill his brother. The meekness of Bors and 
his patience were sorely tried, and he was just lifting up his hand 
to defend his life, wLen he heard a voice which said, ‘ Flee, and 
touch him not; ’ and there came between them a flaming cloud, 
so that both their shields were kindled by it. And again the 
voice said, ‘ Bear thy brother fellowship no more, but go thou to 
the sea where Sir Percivale awaits thee.’ So, going to the shore, 
he found a vessel into which he stepped, and the boat straightway 
shot through the waters, so that it seemed to him to be flying. 
Onwards it sped, until the darkness closed around it, and Sir 


Arthur a 7 id his Kuights, 85 

Bors sank to sleep. But when he awoke in the morning, he saw 
a knight lying in the midst of the vessel, whom he knew to be 
Percivale. But Percivale was abashed until Sir Bors unlaced his 
helm and showed his face. Then great was the joy between 
them, and Percivale said, ‘ We lack nothing but Galahad the good 
knight/ 


CHAPTEE XVII. 

THE ACHIEVING OF THE SANGREAL. 

While these things were happening, Sir Galahad was doing 
great deeds elsewhere. First, after he had rescued Percivale 
from the twenty knights, he came to a castle where a tournament 
was going on, and where Gawaine and Ector were fighting wiih 
the men without and bearing down the men within; and Sir 
Galahad, striking in with the weaker, dealt a blow on Gawaine 
which smote him to the ground. Then, having beaten back all 
the knights without, Galahad .stole away unseen ; and Gawaine 
said, ‘ Xow are Lancelot’s words proved true, that the sword 
which was stuck in the stone should give me a buffet such as I 
would not have for the best castle in the world, for never before 
had I such a stroke from any man’s hand.’ ‘ Your quest is done, 
it seems,’ said Ector. ‘ Yea,’ he said, ‘ I shall seek no more.’ 

But Galahad rode on towards the Castle of Carbonek, and he 
w'as benighted at a hermitage. As he rested with the hermit 
there came a maiden who bade him follow her, and she led him 
to a great castle where the lady suffered him to rest but for a 
little while, and then, leading him by torchlight to the sea, 
brought him to the ship in which were Bors and Percivale; and 
light glad were they to greet Sir Galahad. Then, as the good 
knight stepped into the boat, the winds bore it away swiftly over 
the'sea, till it brought them to a narrow way betwixt high rocks 
where they might not land ; but they saw aiiother ship and up'^n 
it they might go without danger ; and to it they went by the 
maiden’s bidding, and they found the vessel richly dight, but 
there was neither man nor woman therein. But in the end of 
the ship these words were written, ‘ Beware, thou who enterest 
this ship, that thou be stedfast in trust, for I am Faith, and if 
thou failest I shall not help thee.’ Then said the maiden tc 
Percivale, ‘ Knowest thou who I am and he answered, ‘ Xay.’ 



86 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

^ Know then/ she said, ‘ that 1 am thy sister, the daughter of 
King Pellinore; and now I pray thee enter not into this ship 
if thou be not firm of faith, for it will suffer no sin.’ Then 
answered Percivale, ‘ I shall adventure it, and if I be an untrue 
knight I shall perish.’ 

Then the maiden showed them all the treasures of the ship, the 
sword which King Pelles drew to his grievous hurt (for never 
since that day had the wound been healed with which he then 
was smitten), and the rich bed which Solomon’s wife had caused 
to be made, and the three spindles made from the tree which Eve 
planted. Then taking the sword, she said to Galahad, ‘ Gird 
thou on this sword which hath been so long desired of all good 
knights; ’ and when she had fastened it round him with a girdle 
made in most part of her own hair which she had loved well in 
her youth, she said, ‘Now I reck not though I die, for I am one 
of the most blessed of maidens, since I have made the worthiest 
knight in all the world.’ 

Then again the wind drove them on to the Castle of Carteloise, 
which was held by evil knights who had wronged their sister and 
put their father in prison and done great harm through all the 
land. These knights Sir Galahad slew, and rescued the old man 
from his dungeon; but there was little life now left in him, and 
he departed thanking God who suffered him to die in the arms of 
the good Sir Galahad. 

And again they went on to another castle, from which came a 
band of knights who told them of the custom of the place, that 
every maiden who passed by must yield a dish full of her blood. 

‘ That shall she not do,’ said Galahad, ‘ while I live ; ’ and fierce 
was the struggle that followed, and the sword of Galahad, which 
was the sword of King David, smote them down on every side, 
until those who remained alive craved peace, and bade Galahad 
and his fellows come Into the castle for the night; ‘ and on the 
morn,’ they said, ‘ we dare say ye will be of one accord with us 
when ye know the reason for our custom.’ So awhile they rested, 
and the knights told them that in the castle lay a lady sick to 
death, who might never gain back her life until she should be 
anointed with the blood of a pure maiden who was a king’s 
daughter. Then said Percivale’s sister, ‘ I will yield it, and so 
shall I get health to my soul, and there shall be no battle on the 
mom.’ And even so was it done ; but the blood which she gave 
was so much that she might not live, and as her strength passed 
away, she said to Percivale, ‘ I die, brother, for the healing of this 
lady. And I pray you now, bury me not in tliis land, but place 


Arthur and his Knights, 87 

me in a boat at the next haven, and -vhen ye he come to the city 
of Sarras, there to win the Holy Grail, ye shall find me under a 
tower, and there shall ye bury me in the Spiritual Place, and there 
shall Galahad be buried and ye also/ Then, as they wept, a voice 
was heard which said, ‘To-morrow at the hour of prime, ye three 
shall part each to a several way, until ye shall be brought together 
at the house of the maimed king/ Thus was the lady of the castle 
healed, and the gentle maiden, King Pelles’ daughter, died ; and 
Percivale placed in his dead sister's hand a. letter which told of all 
the help which she had given them, and laid her in a barge covered 
with black silk; and the wind arose and drove it away until they 
could see it no more. 

In the meanwhile Lancelot had been brought to the water of 
Morloise, and there he saw a vessel without sail or oar; and as 
soon as he was in the ship, he felt such sweetness as he had never 
known before, for all the things which he thought on or desired, 
these he had. In this joy he laid him down to sleep, for it was 
yet night: and when it was day he woke and saw lying before him 
the body of Sir Percivale's sister with the letter in her hand. This 
letter Sir Lancelot read, and learnt all the things which had 
befallen her and the knights whom she had aided. Here he abode 
a month long, for he was nourished by Him who fed His people 
with manna in the desert. But one night, as he rested by the 
water-side, he heard the steps of a horse, and a knight lighted off 
the steed : and when Lancelot had welcomed him, the stranger 
asked him his name. ‘ I am Lancelot du Lake,’ he said. ‘ Then 
art thou my father,’ answered the knight. ‘ Ah,’ said Lancelot, 
‘ are ye Galahad V ‘ Yea,’ he answered; and no tongue can tell 
their joy, as they embraced each other, and talked afterward of 
many things. So dwelt they within that ship half-a-year and 
served God by day and night. But after this, as they arrived at 
the edge of a forest, a knight clad all in white, and richly horsed, 
came towards them leading a white horse by his right hand : and 
he said to Galahad, ‘ Thou hast been long enough with thy father; 
and now must thou mount this horse, and go whither thou mayest 
be led in the quest of the Sangreal’ Then went Galahad to 
Lancelot and said, ‘ Sweet father, I know not when I shall see you 
more.’ Then a voice came which said, ‘ Take heed to do well, for 
the one shall not see the other again before the day of doom.’ 
Then said Lancelot, ‘ Son Galahad, since we may not see each other 
more on earth, I pray God keep me and you both: ’ and Galahad 
went into the forest. 

And the wind arose and drove Lancelot across the water to a 


88 Poptdar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

castle, where two lions kept the entry by the postern door. Then 
a voice bade him go out of the ship and enter the castle where he 
should see most part of his desire. So arming himself, he drew 
near to the gate, and when he saw the lions he drew his sword ; 
and a dwarf coming suddenly smote him so fiercely on the arm 
that the sword fell out of his hand ; and he heard a voice say, ‘ O 
man of poor belief, why trustest thou more in thy harness than in 
thy Maker?’ Then said Lancelot, ‘ I thank thee. Lord, that Thou 
reprovest me for my misdeed, for now I know that Thou boldest 
me for Thy servant.’ So making the sign of the cross he passed 
the lions safely, although they made as though they would do him 
harm; and going into the castle, he found none within, until he 
came to a chamber which was shut. Here listening he heard a 
voice singing so sweetly that it seemed to come from no earthly 
thing, and he thought that it said, ‘ Joy and honour be to the 
Father of heaven.’ Then Lancelot knelt before the chamber, for 
within it, he knew, lay the Sangreal, and he prayed earnestly that 
he might now see some of the things for which he was seeking. 
Then through the opened doors came a burst of light, as from all 
the torches in the world ; but when he drew near to enter, a voice 
said, ^ See thou come not hither; ’ and drawing back, he saw in 
the midst of the chamber a table of silver and the holy vessel 
covered with red samite, and round about it stood many angels, 
of whom one held a burning taper, and the other a cross. Before 
the vessel stood a priest, as at the sacring of the mass ; and it 
seemed to Lancelot that above the priest’s hands were three men, 
of whom two put the youngest between the priest’s hands, that 
he might lift it up and show it to the people. Then, thinking 
that the priest had great need of help to lift so great a burden, 
Lancelot hastened toward the silver tables and straightway he 
felt as though there passed on him a breath of fire, and he fell to 
the earth as a man without life. 

Four and twenty days and nights lay Lancelot still as the dead; 
and at the end of the days he waked up, and when he learnt all 
that had happened, he said, ‘The four and twenty days are a 
penance for the four and twenty years during which I have been 
a sinner.’ Then, rising up, he pub on him first the hair shirt, and 
over this a shirt of linen, and on this again a scarlet robe, and 
then they who stood by knew him to be the good Sir Lancelot; 
and word was borne to King Pelles who came right gladly to greet 
him, though he had for him heavy tidings, for his child the fair 
Elaine was dead. Four days he abode with Pelles, and the Sang¬ 
real filled the tables with all manner of meats that the heart of 
man might desire. 


Arthtir and his Knights, 89 

Then departing from the house of King Pelles, he made his way 
at length to Camelot, where he found King Arthur and the queen; 
but of the knights of the Round Table nearly one-half had been 
slain and a few only had come back, and among these were Ector, 
Gawaine, and Lionel. Great was the joy of Arthur and Guenevere 
when they saw Sir Lancelot, and they asked him to tell all that 
had befallen him and his fellows. So he told them all the stor}' 
of Galahad, Percivale, and Bors : and the king said, ‘Would all 
three were here.’ ‘ That shall never be,’ said Lancelot, ‘ for only 
upon one of these shall thine eyes rest again.’ 

Now Galahad, as he went his way, came to the abbey where laj* 
King Modrains who had been long blind; and when the king 
heard who it was that had come, he rose up and said, ‘ Galahad, 
the servant of Jesus Christ, for whose coming I have so long 
tarried, let me rest between thine arms, for thou art as the lily 
and the rose for purity and sweetness.’ Then Galahad took the 
king in his arms, and the blind man’s spirit passed gently away. 
Then Galahad placed him in the earth as a king ought to be placed: 
and passing on he came to a well which boiled with great waves ; 
but so soon as he put his hand to it, it burnt no more, and became 
'^ill : and ever after it was called Galahad’s well. 

Yet a few days later he reached the Castle of Carbonek in the 
company of Sir Bors and Sir Percivale ; and there as they sat in 
the chamber, a voice said, ‘ Depart ye who ought not to sit at the 
table of Jesus Christ, for now shall the true knights be fed.’ So 
with the three knights remained only King Pelles and Eliazar his 
son and a maid who was his niece. Then came in nine knights 
all armed, who said that they were come, three from Gaul, three 
from Ireland, and three from Denmark, to be with Galahad at the 
table where the holy meat should be parted : and presently four 
women bare in upon a bed a sick man wearing a golden crown, 
who said, ‘ Ye be welcome, Galahad; much have 1 desired your 
coming, so great and so long has been my pain and an^ish: but 
now I trust the end of my pains is come.’ Then said a voice 
again, ‘ There be two among you that are not in the quest of the 
Sangreal, and therefore depart ye; ’ and King Pelles and his son 
went their way. 

Then straightway the knights deemed that four angels bare in a 
chair a man clothed in likeness of a bishop, and set him before 
the silver table whereon was the Sangreal, and on his forehead 
were letters which said, ‘ See ye here Joseph the first bishop of 
Christendom.’ And the knights marvelled, for that bishop was 
dead more than thiee hundred years. Then they heard the 


90 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

chamber doors open and angels came in, two bearing waxen 
candles, the third a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled three 
drops that fell within a box which he carried in his other hand • 
and when the candles were set on the table, they covered the 
vessel with the towel, and the fourth put the spear upright upon 
the vessel. So there, as the bishop came to the sacring of the 
mass, they saw come out of the holy vessel one that had all the 
signs of the passion of Jesus Christ, who said, ‘ My servants and 
my true children, ye shall now see a part of my hidden things, 
and receive the high meat which ye have so long desired.’ Then 
said he to Galahad, ‘ Knowest thou what I hold between my 
hands ? ’ and Galahad said, ‘ Nay.’ ‘ This,’ he said, ‘ is the holy 
dish in which I ate the lamb on Shrove Tuesday; and now must 
thou go hence, and bear with thee this holy vessel; and by the 
sea-shore ye shall find your vessel ready, thou, and Sir Percivale, 
and Sir Bors ; and two of you shall die in my service, and one 
shall come again, bearing tidings.’ Then giving them his blessing, 
he vanished away; and Galahad having touched with his fingers 
the blood that dropped from the spear, anointed the limbs of the 
maimed king, who started up on his feet as a whole man, 
thanking God. 

That same night, at midnight, a voice came among them which 
said, ‘ My sons and not my chieftains, my friends and not my 
warriors, go hence where ye hope best to do, and as I bade you.* 
So in all haste they went their way, and coming to the shore 
found the ship, which bare them away to the city of Sarras; and 
there, as they would have landed, they saw the ship in which 
Percivale had placed his sister. Then said Percivale, ‘ She has 
kept her covenant well.’ Then with the silver table they went 
towards the city, but it needed a fourth man to aid in bearing it, 
and Galahad called to an old man who stood by the city gate. 
‘Truly,’ said he, ‘I have not gone but with crutches these ten years.’ 
‘ Care thou not,’ said Galahad, ‘ only help us: ’ and as soon as he 
rose to help them, he was whole. Then all the city stirred for the 
tidings of the cripple who had been healed by the knights who 
were come thither; and they brought up the body of Sir Perci- 
vale’s sister and buried her, as she had besought them. 

But the king of the city was a tyrant; and when he had heard 
of all that happened, he took them and prisoned them in his dun¬ 
geon, and there they lay, fed by the Sangreal, till the year was 
ended, when the king, having fallen sick, sent for them to crave 
their mercy. So when the king was dead, the people said that 
Galahad should be king in his stead, and they placed on his head 


Arthur and his Kfiights, 91 

the golden crown. On the morrow, rising early, he saw kneeling 
before the holy vessel, a man in the likeness of a bishop, who had 
about him a great company of angels ; and when he had ended the 
sacrament of the mass, he called Galahad, and said, ‘ Thou shalt 
see now that which thou long hast yearned to see.’ Then the old 
man offered to Galahad the holy wafer, and Galahad received it 
gladly and meekly, and he said to him, ‘I am Joseph of Arimathie, 
and I- have been sent to thee for two things,—because thou hast 
seen the Sangreal, and because thou art clean and pure.’ 

Then Galahad went to Percivale, and kissed him, and commend¬ 
ing his soul to God, said, ‘ Bid Sir Lancelot, my father, take Heed 
of this unstable world.’ So saying he kneeled down and prayed, 
and then the angels bare away his soul to heaven; and Percivale 
and Bors saw a hand take up the vessel and the spear and bear 
them away to heaven. 

Since that day, has no man been so hardy as to say that he has 
seen the Sangreal. 

A year and two months from this time Sir Percivale dwelt in 
religious clothing with a hermit, and Sir Bors abode with him in 
his knight’s dress. 'J'hen Sir Percivale passed out of this world, 
and Bors laid him by the side of his sister and Galahad in the 
Spiritual Place : and hastening thence he journeyed away until he 
came to Camelot, and told to King Arthur and to Sir Lancelot 
all the things which had happened. ‘ Right welcome art thou,^ 
said Sir Lancelot, ‘ and all that ever I can do for thee thou shall 
find my poor body ever ready to do, while the life remains in it.’ 
‘ And be thou sure,’ said Bors, ‘ that I will never part from thee 
while our lives sliall last.’ ‘I will, as thou wilt,’ said Sir 
Lancelot. 


CHAPTER XVIII. / 

THE STORY OF THE MAID OF ASTOLAT. 

So the days went on after Sir Lancelot had come back from the 
quest of the Sangreal: and he forgot the words which he had 
spoken, and went back to his old love for Queen Guenevere, and 
the heart of Guenevere clave the more to him; but because other 
ladies and maidens sought him to be their champion and he took 
their parts, therefore was the queen’s anger kindled, and she chid 
Sir Lancelot for the cooling of his love. Long he pleaded his 



92 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

cause, and told her how hut for the love of her he might in the 
search for the holy vessel have done as well as his son Sir Gala- 
had ; but he spake in vain, and Guenevere hade him depart and 
see her face no more. Then as he was going away in heaviness, 
Sir Bors strove to cheer him, and Lancelot told him all the words 
that had come from her lips. ‘ Heed them not,’ said Sir Bors : 

‘ she has spoken after this sort before, and she has afterward been 
the first to repent of her words.’ Then Lancelot prayed Sir Bors 
to win back for him the love of the queen; and then went his 
way. Sore was Guenevere’s grief in her heart, but she set her 
fiice as though she heeded not his departing. 

Now about this time the queen held a feast for certain of King 
Arthur’s knights ; and a knight named Pinel, who hated Sir 
Gawaine, placed for him on the table a poisoned apple, but 
another knight named Sir Patrise took it and ate of it and fell 
down suddenly dead among them. Great was the wrath of the 
knights, for they deemed it was the queen’s doing, and Sir Mador, 
the near kinsman of the slain man, charged the queen with the 
treason, and prayed the king that justice might be done upon her. 
Then, though the king besought him not to be over hasty, yet 
would he insist that the great should be dealt with as the small: 
and the king said, ‘ On the fifteenth day be ready in the field 
before Westminster : and if then any knight appear on her behalf, 
do thou thy best and God speed the right: and if thou smite 
down her champion, then must my queen be burnt, and there shall 
she be ready for the judgment.’ 

When Arthur was alone with Guenevere, he asked her how it 
all came about, and she told him that she could in nowise tell. 

‘ Were Lancelot here, he would do battle for thee. Where is 
lie ? ’ asked the king. And this also she could not tell him. 

‘ What ails thee,’ he said, ‘ that thou canst not keep Lancelot on 
thy side? But if thou canst not find him, pray Sir Bors to do 
battle on thy behalf for Lancelot’s sake.’ 

So she made her prayer to Sir Bors : but Bors spake roughly. 

‘ 1 marvel how thou canst ask me to do aught for thee, when thou 
hast chased out of the country the man by whom w:e were most 
borne up and honoured.’ Then in great woe she kneeled down 
and besought him to have mercy upon her; and even as she 
knelt. King Arthur came in, and besought him also, because he 
was sure that she was untruly defamed. So Sir Bors promised, 
altliough he knew that he should make many a knight of the 
Pound Table angry. Then departing from the court he rode to 
Sir i.ancelot, who was right glad that he might strike a blow foi 


Arthur and his Knights. 93 

the queen; and so he plighted his faith that he would he at 
Westminster on the judgment day. But in the mean season there 
was much talk, and many said plainly that for the queen they had 
no love because she was a destroyer of good knights; but Sir 
Bors said nay to these words, and that there had been treason 
among them. And even so it was proved at last; for when the 
day was come, Sir Lancelot appeared on the field and smote down 
Sir Mador, and the queen was assoiled of the treason ; and while 
there was great joy with all and Guenevere sank almost to the 
earth for shame that Lancelot had done to her so great kindness 
when she had dealt by him so unkindly, suddenly there appeared 
among them the Lady of the Lake, and charged Sir Pinel openly 
before the king with the death of Sir Patrise; and Pinel fled from 
the land as a craven knight, and over the tomb of Sir Patrise a 
writing was placed which told all the story, to the fouling of Sir 
Pinel’s name, and the assoiling of Queen Guenevere. 

But other troubles were nigh at hand for her. For, when the 
king bade the heralds proclaim a great tournament to be held at 
Camelot, she would not go thither, and when Lancelot also tarried 
behind, the king set forth heavy and displeased, and ho lodged on 
the way in a town called Astolat. But when he was gone, the 
queen spake with Lancelot, and told him that it would be ill for 
his name and hers if he went not to the jousting; and Lancelot 
said, ‘ Thou speakest wisely; but thy wisdom is late in coming. 
Yet will I go at thy bidding : but at the jousts I will be against 
the king and his company.’ On the morrow, then, he rode to 
Astolat, and when he was come thither, the king saw him as he 
entered into the house of Sir Bernard. Presently Lancelot asked 
him for a shield that was not openly known, and Sir Bernard 
gave him the shield of his son, who was hurt the same day that 
he was made knight and was able to fight no more; and he 
prayed his guest to tell him his name. ‘That I may not do 
now,’ he said: ‘but if I speed well at the jousts, I will come again 
and tell you.’ Then Sir Bernard prayed him to let his younger 
son Lavaine ride with him to the tourney, and Sir Lavaine was 
exceedingly eager to go with him, but the eyes of his sister, whom 
men called the Fair Maid of Astolat, were fixed eagerly on Sir 
Lancelot; and Elaine (for this was her name) prayed him to wear 
a red sleeve at the jousts as a token of her. Then said Lancelot, 
‘ I have done no such thing for any maiden before; nevertheless 
I will wear thy token, and I leave my shield in thy keeping.’ 

Bravely and mightily fought the knights when the day for the 
jousting had come; but the bravest and mightiest of all was 


94 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Lancelot, whom none knew save the king only. Wherever he 
bore down on his horse, all were smitten before him like corn 
before the wind, until Sir Bors by mischance smote him through 
tlie shield into his side, and the head of the lance was left in the 
wound. So great was the pain that Sir Lancelot could not tarry 
to receive the prize ; but riding away with Lavaine, he came to a 
wood-side, and there bade him draw the truncheon from his side. 
Loth was Lavaine to do his bidding, for he feared that Lancelot 
might bleed to death; and when it was done, the stream gushed 
forth as though his life must pass away. But Lavaine got him at 
last to a hermit’s house, and there the wound was stanched, and 
slowly his strength came back to him. 

Meanwhile King Arthur had returned with his fellowship to 
London ; and Sir Gawaine, on the road, tarried at Astolat at the 
house of Sir Bernard, and told how the Knight of the Ked Sleeve 
had won the prize over all. ‘ Kow blessed be God,’ said Elaine 
the Fair, ‘ that he sped so well, for he is the first man I have 
loved in the world, and he shall be the last.’ ‘ Knowest thou his 
name 1 ’ asked Sir Gawaine. ‘ Kay,’ she said, ‘ I know neither his 
name nor whence he comes; but well I know that I love him.’ 

* How had you knowledge of him at first 1 ’ said Sir Gawaine. 

Then she told him all : and when Gawaine heard of the shield 
he prayed that she would show it to him. ‘ It is the shield of 
Sir Lancelot du Lake,’ he said when the cover had been taken off 
it. ‘ Fair maiden, thy honour is great, for four and twenty years 
have I known this knight, and never saw I him wear token of any 
lady or maiden. But I fear me that ye may see him again no 
more.’ ‘ How may this be ? ’ she said. ‘ Is he slain ? ’ ‘ Nay,’ 

said Gawaine, ‘but he is sorely wounded.’ Then Elaine turned 
to her father, and won his leave that she might ride to Lancelot 
and tend him while he lay sick : and Gawaine went back to the 
king and told him all that he had seen and heard. 

But the wrath of Queen Guenevere broke out afresh when she 
knew that Lancelot had borne in the tourney the red sleeve of the 
Maiden of Astolat, and many a hard word she spake against him 
to Sir Bors. And Elaine coming to Camelot met her brother 
Lavaine, and asked him how fared her lord Sir Lancelot. ‘ Who 
told you,’ he asked, ‘ that his name is Lancelot 'i ’ ‘ Sir Gawaine 

knew him by his shield,’ she said : and going with her brother 
she reached the hermitage where Lancelot lay. There, as she 
saw him sick and pale in his bed, she could not speak, but fell 
down in a swoon and lay a great while. But when her strength 
came back to her a little, Lancelot said to Lavaine, ‘ Bring her to 


Arthur and his Knights, 95 

roe ; * and kissing hor he said, ‘ Thou puttest me to pain, fair 
maiden; wherefore weep no more. If thou hast com(i to cheer 
me, thou ait right welcome, and of my wound I trust soon to 
be whole,’ So there she tarried, watcliing him day and night, 
so t1 at never woman did more for man than she did for Sir 
Lancelot 

Thither, also, after long wandering and search, came Sir Bors, 
for he yearned to throw himself at Lancelot’s feet, and crave his 
forgiveness for the wound which he had unwittingly given him. 
And Lancelot said, ‘ Thou art right welcome, cousin, but of these 
matters let us say no more. All shall be welcome that God 
sendeth,’ Then Bors told him of the queen’s wrath and of the 
cause of it, and looking at Elaine, he asked, ‘ Is this she whom 
nnni call the Maiden of Astolat 1 ^ Yes,’ said Lancelot, ‘ it is she 

whom I can by no means put from me,’ ‘ Why shouldst thou put 
her from thee % ’ said Bors. ‘ Happier far were it for thee if thou 
couldst love her ; but of that I cannot advise thee. Only I see 
well that all her love is given to thee, nor is she the first that has 
lost her pain upon thee.’ 

When three days more were past, Sir Lancelot felt himself so 
strong that he sought to be on his horse again; but the steed was 
fresh and fiery, and as he leaped, he made the knight’s wound 
burst forth again, and once more Lancelot was well nigh dead. In 
sore grief Elaine knelt beside him and sought to awaken him with 
her kisses ; but little could they do until the good hermit came 
and stanched the bleeding. Then Sir Bors hastened to the king, 
to tell him of all that had befallen Lancelot, and the king was 
sorry, but Guenevere said, ^ I would he had not his life.’ ‘ His life 
he shall have,’said Bors, ‘and except thee none should wish it 
otherwise but we should shorten their lives. Many a time before 
hast thou been wroth with Sir Lancelot, and each time hath he 
been proved to be a true and faithful knight.’ 

But at length the time came when Lancelot must depart, for 
now was he well and strong again, and so great was the love that 
Elaine bare that in nowise could she withstand it. ‘ Have mercy 
on me,’ she said, ‘ and leave me not to die.’ ‘What wouldst thoul’ 
asked Lancelot, ‘ To be thy wife,’ said the maid ot Astolat. 
‘ Nay,’ answered Lancelot,. ‘ never shall I be a wedded man.’ 
‘ Then be thou my love,’ she said; but in that too he said her nay, 
for he would not do her wrong. ‘ Then must I die for my love,’ 
said Elaine. And ever from that hour, when Sir Lancelot was 
gone, she pined away, until, when ten days were past, she was 
shriven, and the pr4est bade her leave such thoughts. ‘Why 


96 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

should I leave such thoughts ? ’ she said, ‘ am I not an earthly 
woman ? Yea, while my breath is in my body, I will complain, 
for I do no offence though I love an earthly man, and none have 
I loved but Sir Lancelot, and never shall 1/ Then calling her 
father and her brother, she bade them write for her a letter of 
which she gave the words. * When I am dead,’ she said, ‘ and 
while my body is yet warm, let this letter be put in my right hand, 
and my hand bound fast with the letter until I be cold ; and let 
me be put in a fair bed with all the richest clothes that I have 
about me; and so let my bed and all my richest clothes be borne 
with me in a chariot to the next place where Thames is; and there 
let me be put within a barge, and let my barge be covered with 
black samite over and over. Thus, father, I beseech you, let it be 
done.’ And when she had so said, she died; and they put her 
body in the barge, and sent it on the river to Westminster. And 
so for her love died the maid of Astolat. 

Now at Westminster King Arthur was speaking with the queen 
near a window, when they spied a barge, and marvelled what it 
could mean; and going down to the river, they found in the barge, 
wrapped in cloth of gold, and lying as though she smiled, the body 
of the fair Elaine ; and the queen spying the letter in her right 
hand told the king, who carried it away and bade the clerk read 
it; and the words of the letter said only this : ‘Most noble Sir 
Lancelot, death hath made a severance between us for thy love, 
for I whom men called the Fair Maiden of Astolat was your lover. 
Pray thou for my soul, as thou art peerless.’ And all wept who 
heard the words; but when Lancelot came, whom the king sent 
for, he said, ‘ I am heavy for the fair maiden’s death. Yet was it 
none of my devising, for she loved me out of measure, and nought 
would content her but that she must be either my wife or my 
love, and neither of these things could I grant to her.^ Many a 
knight came that day to look on her fair face, and on the morrow 
they buried her richly. And when all was done, the queen sent 
for Lancelot and craved his forgiveness because she had been 
wroth with him without cause. ‘ It is not the first time that thou 
hast been thus wroth with me,’ said Sir Lancelot. 



Arthur and his Knights, 


97 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE JUDGMENT OF QUEEN GUENEVERE. 

Then awhile they abode joyously together; and when the merry 
month of May came round, Queen Guenevere rode into the forest 
with her knights of the Round Table, all clad in green, and ten 
ladies with her. But even while they were sporting among the 
trees and flowers, an'evil knight watched them named iMelia- 
grance, the son of King Bagdemagus, who had long loved the 
queen and sought to steal her away when Sir Lancelot might not 
be with her; and now when he saw that she had but ten knights 
with her, he came with eightscore men well harnessed, and bade 
the queen and her knights stand still. ‘ Thou shamest all knight¬ 
hood and thyself,' said the queen. ‘ Be that as it may,' said Sir 
Meliagrance, ‘ I have loved you many a year, and now I will take 
you as I find you.’ Stoutly the ten knights fought for Queen 
Guenevere, until of the men of Sir Meliagrance forty lay dead 
upon the field. But they were sore bestead ; and Guenevere cried 
out for pity and sorrow, ‘ Sir Knight, I will go with you upon 
this covenant, that thou wilt save these knights, and that they be 
led with me whithersoever thou mayst take me.' 

So they rode together, and Sir Meliagrance was sorely afraid 
lest the queen might send tidings of her durance to Sir Lancelot. 
But though he kept close watch, yet was Guenevere able to speak 
for a moment with a child of her chamber, and she charged him 
to bear a ring to Sir Lancelot and bid him come to rescue her. 
‘ Spare not thy horse,' said she, ‘ either for water or for land.' 
So when the child spied his time he rode swiftly away, and 
although Sir Meliagrance sent men after him their quest was vain. 
Then said he to Guenevere, ‘ I see that thou wouldst betray me, 
but I shall make ready for Sir Lancelot’s coming.’ 

Swiftly rode the child to Westminster, and more swiftly sped 
Sir Lancelot back, leaving charge to Sir Lavaine that he should 
hasten after him with all his might, to rescue the queen, her 
knights, and her ladies, from her traitorous enemies. And many 
a peril had he to pass on the road, for Sir Meliagrance placed 
men who shot his horse; and at last a cart came by for gathering 
wood, but when he prayed the woodman to let him ride on it, the 
woodman said nay, not once or twice; and straightway the 
knight slew him. Then his fellow was afraid, and brought Sir 
Lancelot in his cart to the castle where the queen lay, and tlirust- 

G 


93 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

ing back tbe gate, Lancelot smote the porter under the ear with 
his gauntlet so that his neck brake. 

Then was the traitor heart of Meliagrance bowed down with fear, 
and hastening into the presence of Queen Guenevere he threw him¬ 
self at her feet and craved mercy, and put all things in the castle at 
her will. ‘Better is peace than war,’ said Guenevere, and she 
went to greet Sir Lancelot, who, standing in the inner court, bade 
the traitor come forth and do battle. ‘ Why art thou so moved, 
Sir Lancelot 1 ’ asked the queen. ‘ Why dost thou put this ques¬ 
tion to me r answered Lancelot; ‘ thou oughtest to be more 
wroth than I, for thou hast the hurt and the dishonour.’ ‘ Thou 
sayest true,’ said the queen, ‘ and I thank thee. Yet must thou 
come in peaceably, for all things here are put into my hands, and 
the knight is sorely ashamed for his -wrong doing.’ ‘ That may 
well be,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘ yet are there none upon earth save 
thee and my Lord King Arthur, who should stay me from leaving 
the heart of Sir Meliagrance full cold before I depart hence.’ 
Then she took him by his bare hand, for he had taken oif his 
gauntlet, and she brought him into her chamber, where her ladies 
unarmed him, and the ten wounded knights rejoiced exceedingly 
when they beheld him ; and for many a day after he was called 
the Knight of the Cart. 

Now Lancelot and the queen talked together, and she made 
him promise that the same night he should come to a window 
barred with iron towards a garden when all folk were asleep. 
All that day the queen tended the wounded knights ; and when 
at night Sir Lancelot was in the chamber set apart for him, he 
told Sir Lavaine that he must go and speak with the queen. ‘ Let 
me go with you,’ said Sir Lavaine, ‘for sorely do T fear the treachery 
of Sir Meliagrance.’ ‘ I thank ye,’ said Lancelot, ‘ but I will have 
ao one with me.’ Then sword in hand he went to a place where he 
had spied a ladder, which he carried to the window, and then he 
spake of many things with the queen. ‘ Would I were by thy 
side,’ said he at length. ‘ I will, as thou -wilt,’ answered Guene¬ 
vere. ‘Now shall I prove my might,’ he said, and seizing the 
bars he wrested them clean out from the wall, but one of the bars 
wounded his head to the bone; and when he could tarry there no 
longer, he went out again at the window, putting the bars in 
»heir place as well as he could. 

But in the morning Sir Meliagrance espied the blood of Sir 
Lancelot in the queen’s chamber, and he deemed that it was the 
blood of one of the wounded knights, and that the queen was 
false to King Arthur. Therewith he charged her with the wrong 


Arthur and his Knights, 99 

doing, and the ten knights in hot anger told him that he said 
falsely and that they would make good their word upon their 
bodies; and the tidings of these things were brought to Sir 
Lancelot, and coming forth he met Sir Meliagrance, who told him 
again of that which had befallen. ^Beware what thou doest,’ 
said Sir Lancelot. ‘ And beware thou too,’ said Meliagrance, 
^ for peerless though thou mayest be, yet if thou sidest with them, 
thou wilt take part in a wrong quarrel, for God will have a stroke 
in every battle.’ ‘ God is to be feared,’ answered Lancelot; ‘ but 
I tell you plainly that none of these knights was here with my 
lady Queen Guenevere, and that will I prove by my hands.’ So 
they exchanged gloves, and gaged to do battle on the eighth day 
in the field beside Westminster. *In the mean season,’ said Sir 
Meliagrance, ‘ plot thou no treason against me.’ ‘Never have I 
plotted treason against any,’ answered Lancelot, ‘ and that thou 
very well knowest.’ Then after dinner Meliagrance asked Lance¬ 
lot if he would see the passages of the castle; and Lancelot 
followed him in all knightly faith and trust, until he trod on a 
trap and the board rolled, and he fell ten fathom down into a 
dungeon full of straw. 

Great was the marvelling when Sir Lancelot could nowhere be 
seen; but at last they deemed that he had gone his way as he was 
wont to do suddenly. Then Sir Lavaine got together litters for 
the wounded knights, and he journeyed with them all and with 
the queen and her ladies to Westminster, and told the king all 
that had happened, and how Meliagrance had gaged to do battle 
on the eighth day with Lancelot. ‘ He has taken upon him a 
great thing,’ said the king; ‘ but where is Sir Lancelot ’ ‘We 
wot not where he is,’ answered Lavaine, but we deem he has 
ridden forth upon some errand.’ ‘Let him be,’ said Arthur; ‘he 
will meet his pledge, if he be not trapped with some treason.’ 

Meanwhile Sir Lancelot lay in the dungeon, where every day 
a maiden brought him food and drink, and wooed him to love her. 
* Ye are not wise,’ she said, when he would not grant her prayer, 
‘ for but by my will thou canst not go forth, and if thou be not 
at Westminster on the day of battle, the queen will die in the 
flames.’ ‘God forbid,’ he said, ‘that she should be burnt for my 
default: but be thou sure they will deem, if I come not, that I 
am in prison or sick or dead; and sure I am that some knight of 
my kinsfolk will take up my quarrel.’ At last on the day of 
battle she said to him, ‘ Thou art over-hard of heart; and if 
thou wilt but kiss me, I should set thee free with thy armour and 
with the best horse in the castle stables.’ ‘ Nay,’ said Lancelot, 


lOO Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

'I know not if there be any wrong in kissing thee so he kissed 
her and went his way on a white horse which she gave him; and 
as he left her he said, ‘ Thou hast done a good deed, and for it I 
will do thee a service if ever it he in my power/ 

The lists were made ready at Westminster, and the queen 
stood by the pile of wood, and Meliagrance looked for judgment 
against her because Sir Lancelot came not, and all were ashamed 
that the queen should be burnt for this cause. Then said Sir 
Lavaine to the king, ‘ Sure am I that Lancelot would be here, if 
he were not sick or in prison or dead; and therefore, I pray you, 
suffer me to do battle in his stead to save my lady the queen.* 

‘ Be it as thou wilt,’ said the king, ‘ for I dare to say that this 
knight’s charge is false, seeing there is not one of the wounded 
knights but says that it is untrue, and that if they could stand 
they would prove their words with their bodies.’ But even as 
the heralds were going to cry the onset, Sir Lancelot was seen 
speeding on with all the strength of his white steed. ‘ Ho ! and 
abide,’ cried the king; and Lancelot coming up told how Melia¬ 
grance had dealt with him from first to last, so that all who heard 
him felt shame of the traitor. So in the battle Sir Lancelot bare 
down on him and smote him with the first blow, and Meliagrance 
said, ‘ I yield me as overcome ; save my life.’ Then was Lancelot 
sore vexed, for he longed greatly to slay Sir Meliagrance, and he 
looked to the queen to see what she would have : and she made a 
sign that Sir Meliagrance should die. ‘ Rise up,’ said Lancelot, 
‘and do battle to the uttermost.’ ‘ Nay, I rise not,’ he answered, 

‘ until ye take me as recreant and overcome.’ ‘ That will I not,’ 
said Lancelot: ‘ but I will make thee a large proffer. I will 
leave unarmed my head and the left quarter of my body, and my 
left hand shall be bound behind me; and so will we fight 
together.’ ‘ So be it,’ said Meliagrance ; and so was it done ; but 
in spite of his vantage his head was smitten in twain by the first 
blow from Sir Lancelot’s sword ; and more was Lancelot cherished 
of the king and queen than ever he had been before. 

After this King Arthur held his court at Carlisle; and thither 
was brought in a litter Sir Urre of Hungary, Avhose mother had 
borne him for seven years from land to land in quest of some one 
who might stanch the bleeding wounds which he had received at 
the hands of a knight whom he had slain in Spain; and this 
knight’s mother was a sorceress, who said that Sir Urre’s wounds 
should ever remain open until they were searched by the best 
knight in the world. 

Then Sir Urre’s mother told the king all the story; and Arthur 


Arthur and his Knights, loi 

said, ‘ I will handle his wounds, not that I think myself worthy 
to heal your son, but because I would encourage other knights to 
do as I will do.’ So the king softly handled him, and a hundred 
and ten knights after him; but still the wounds bled on. 
‘ Where is Sir Lancelot,’ cried the king, that he is not here at 
this time 1 ’ and as they spoke of many things, Lancelot was 
seen riding towards them; and when Sir Urre’s sister saw 
him, she ran to her brother and said, ‘Brother, here is a 
knight come to whom my heart greatly turns.’ ‘Yea,’ said 
Urre, ‘and so doth mine more than to all others that have 
searched me; and now I hope to be healed.’ Then said the 
king to Lancelot that he must now essay what they had sought to 
do : but he answered that he dared not to thrust himself forward 
when so many noble knights and the king had tried in vain 
before him. ‘ Nay, then, thou shalt not choose,’ said Arthur, ‘ for 
I will charge thee to do as we have done.’ And not only did the 
knights pray him so to do, but Sir Urre besought him earnestly 
to heal him, ‘ for,’ he said, ‘ since thou earnest my wounds seem 
as though they hurt me not.’ Then Lancelot kneeled down by 
the wounded knight, and prayed that God might give him grace 
to do that which of himself he might never do; and after this, 
each wound, as he laid his hand upon it, healed up and left the 
flesh as fair as it had been before Sir Urre was hurt. Then all 
knelt down and gave thanks to God, and Lancelot wept as a child. 
So came Sir Urre of Hungary into Carlisle lusty and strong, and 
there were joustings in which he and Sir Lavaine wrought best, 
and after this Lavaine was married to Sir Urro’s sister. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE SIEGE OE JOYOUS CARD. 

In merry May, when Summer comes to gladden men with fresh 
flowers, the flower of knighthood was crushed ; and this evil was 
wrought by two unhappy knights, Agravaine and Mordred. For 
these two hated Guenevere, and daily and nightly they watched 
for Sir Lancelot; and at last Agravaine said openly that they 
must tell the king of the falsehood of the queen. ‘ Speak not of 
such matters to me,’ said Gawaine to his brothers, ‘ for I will not 
be of your counsel:' and so said Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth. 



ro2 Poptdar Romances of the Middle Ages, 

‘ Then will I be with you/ said Mordred. ‘ I would that ye left 
all this/ answered Gawaine, ‘ for I know what will fall of it/ 
‘Fall of it what may/ said Agravaine, ‘I will show all unto the 
king/ And even so, in spite of all that Gawaine and Gaheris 
and Gareth might say, to the king they came and charged the 
queen and Sir Lancelot of treason. ‘ If it be so,’ said Arthur, ‘ I 
would that Lancelot be taken in the deed, for I know no knight 
that is able to match him, and I should be loth to begin such a 
thing unless I might have proofs upon it.’ Then Agravaine 
counselled the king to send word to the queen that he should be 
away one night, that so Guenevere might send for Lancelot or 
Lancelot go to Guenevere, and thus they should be entrapped. 
So the next day the king went hunting, and sent this message 
to the queen : and in the evening Sir Lancelot told Bors that he 
would go and speak with Guenevere. ‘ Nay, do not thus,’ said 
Bors, ‘ for I fear sorely that Agravaine is on the watch to do you 
shame.’ ‘Fear not,’ answered Lancelot; ‘the queen has sent for 
me, and I will not be so much a coward but she shall see me.’ 

So Lancelot passed into the queen’s chamber; and while he 
was yet there, Sir Agravaine and Mordred came with twelve 
knights, and cried out to him, ‘Now, traitor, thou art taken:’ 
and all fourteen were armed as for a battle. Then said Ijancelot 
to Guenevere, ‘ Let me have but some armour, and I shall soon 
stint their malice.’ ‘Alas!’ .she said, ‘I have none here, and 
much I fear that our long love is coming to its end, and against 
so many armed men thou canst not stand.’ Louder yet shouted 
the knights outside, until Lancelot said that death were better 
than to endure all this pain. Then taking the queen in his arms, 
he kissed her and said, ‘ Most noble Christian queen, pray for my 
soul if I be here slain, and trouble not thyself: for well I know 
that Sir Urre and Sir Bors, and other my kinsfolk will rescue thee 
and will carry thee away to my lands where thou mayest live like 
a queen.’ ‘ Nay,’ she said, ‘that may not be, for if thou art slain 
I shall not care to live, and I will take my death as meekly as 
ever did any Christian queen.’ 

Then Lancelot made ready for the fight, and opening the door 
he gave space for one man only to come ; and in strode a stalwart 
knight, named Colgrevance of Gore; and before he could strike, 
Lancelot smote him dead with a buffet upon the helmet; and 
drawing the body within the door, he donned the dead man’s 
armour, and so harnessed he slew Agravaine and the twelve 
knights, and Mordred alone remained alive, and he fled away 
wounded. Then turning to the queen he said, ‘ I fear me all our 


Arthur and his Knights, 103 

fcrue love is Lrouglit to an end, for now will King Arthur be my 
foe. But if it please thee to abide with me, I will save you from 
all dangers so far as I may.’ So Lancelot kissed Guenevere, 
and either gave other a ring, and the knight went to his own 
lodging. 

After this Lancelot took counsel with Sir Bors, who said that 
they must take the woe with the weal, and that they should be 
able to do as much harm to their enemies as their enemies could 
do to them. So they summoned all who would take their side, 
and there were reckoned of them one hundred and forty knights. 

‘ And now say what I shall do,’ asked Lancelot, ‘ if the king 
adjudge the queen to the flames'?’ With one voice they cried, 
‘ Rescue her. As many times ye have done for other men’s 
quarrels, so do now for your own.’ ‘ But even this grieves me,' 
he answered, ‘ for in rescuing her I must do much harm, and it 
may be that I shall destroy some of my best friends to my great 
grief; and if I rescue her, where shall I keep her % ’ ‘ That shall 

be the least care of all,’ said Sir Bors. ^ Did not Tristram by 
your will keep Isolte the Fair for three years in Joyous Gard] 
There may ye keep her, and afterward bring her back to the king, 
and it may be ye shall have love and thank where others shall 
have none.’ ‘ Nay,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘ but have I not a warning 
in what befel Sir Tristram, for when he had brought the fair 
Isolte from Joyous Gard into Cornwall, did not the traitor King 
Mark slay him, as he sat harping before her, by thrusting a glaive 
into his heart “I ’ ‘ Yea, so it was,’ answered Bors j ‘ but Mark 

was ever false, and Arthur is ever true.’ 

Wounded and covered with blood Mordred came before King 
Arthur, and told him how he alone of the fourteen knights 
remained alive, and how Lancelot in the queen’s chamber had 
slain them all. ‘ Alas ! ’ said the king, ‘ he is a peerless man, and 
alas ! that ever he should be against me ; for now is the noble 
fellowship of the Round Table broken for ever; and now the 
queen must die.’ Then Gawaine besought the king to tarry yet 
awhile before he sufi’ered the judgment to be done, ‘ for,’ he said, 
‘ it may be that Lancelot was with the queen for no ill intent, 
and many a time has he rescued her and rescued thee; and I 
dare to say that the queen is both good and true, and that Sir 
Lancelot will prove this upon his body.’ ‘ In good sooth I doubt 
not he will,’ said the king, ‘ for so mighty is he that none may 
withstand him, and therefore for her he shall fight no more ; and 
she shall have the law. Yea, if I may get Sir Lancelot, he too 
shall die shamefully.’ ‘May I never see it,’ answered Gawaine, 


104 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

‘ Wliy say ye so 1 ’ cried Arthur; has he not slain your brothef 
Sir Agravaine, and well-nigh killed your brother Sir Mordred % 

‘ In truth he has/ said Gawaine, ‘ but I gave them warning what 
would befall in the end; but they would not hearken to me, and 
I will not lay their deaths to his charge/ Then said the king, 
‘ Make ready, thou and thy brothers Gaheris and Gareth, to bring 
the queen to the fire/ ‘ That will I never do,’ answered Gawaine, 
* and never shall it be said that I had part or lot in her death/ 
‘ Then,’ said the king, ‘ suflfer your brothers to be there/ ‘ They 
are young,’ answered Gawaine, ‘ and cannot say you nay/ Then 
spake the two brothers, ‘ Sir, thou mayest command us, but it is 
sorely against our will; but if we be there we will come unarmed 
and in no harness of war.’ And even so they did, and they went 
forth with the queen to the place where the fire should be kindled \ 
but one whom Lancelot sent to see what should happen had gone 
back with the tidings, and like a whirlwind came Lancelot with 
his men, and smote on the right hand and on the left all who 
stood in harness round the queen ; and there was a great throng¬ 
ing and crushing, and in the tumult the sword of Sir Lancelot 
smote down the good knights Gaheris and Gareth, and their 
bodies were found in the thickest of the press. So, having rescued 
the queen, he rode with her to his castle of Joyous Gard. 

‘ Alas ! that ever I wore a crown,’ said the king when he heard 
the tidings, ‘ for now have I lost the fairest fellowship that ever 
Christian king held together. And now I charge you all, tell not 
Sir Gawaine of the death of his brothers, for if he hears the news it 
will well nigh drive him mad. Ah me ! that Lancelot should 
slay Gareth, who loved him above all earthly men.’ ‘ That is 
truth,’ said some knights, ‘ but Lancelot knew them not in the 
hustling of the fight, and he willed not to slay either.’ ‘ It may 
be,’ said the king : ‘ but their death will cause the greatest war 
that ever was. Alas! Agravaine, for thine evil will, that thou 
and Mordred should cause all this sorrow.’ 

Then there came one to Gawaine and told how Lancelot had 
rescued the queen. ‘In that,’ said Gawaine, ‘he has done a 
knightly deed; but where are my brethren % ’ ‘ They are slain,’ 

answered the messenger, ‘and it is noised that Lancelot slew 
them.’ ‘ That may I not believe,’ said Sir Gawaine, ‘ for Gareth 
loved him better than all other men.’ ‘ Nevertheless,’ said the 
man, ‘ it is noised that Lancelot slew him.’ Then Gawaine 
swooned away for his sorrow ; and when he arose, he ran hastily 
to the king his uncle, and told him how his brothers had been 
slain; and the king said that their deaths must be avenged. ‘ I 


Arthur and his Kfiights. 105 

make you now a promise/ answered Gawaine, ‘ that I will never 
fail Lancelot until he or I be slain. Get you then our friends 
together; and I shall seek him, if it be through seven kingdoms.' 
* Ye need not seek him so far/ said the king, ‘for Lancelot will 
abide us in Joyous Gard.' 

So writs were sent to summon all who would fight for the king, 
and a mighty host was gathered to lay siege to Joyous Gard : but 
Lancelot was loth to fight against the man who had made him a 
knight, and he kept all his people within the castle wall. But 
one day in harvest time he looked over the walls, and spake with 
the king and Sir Gawaine, and the king challenged him to come 
forth and fight. ‘ God forbid,’ said Lancelot, ‘ that I should 
encounter the noble king who made me a knight,’ ‘ Fie on thy 
fair speech/ answered the king. ‘ I am now thy mortal foe, for 
thou hast slain my knights and dishonoured my queen.’ ‘ Say 
what thou wilt,’ said Lancelot; ‘ with you I will not strive ; nor 
is there any knight under heaven that dare make it good upon 
my person that ever I have dealt traitorously by you. Many a 
time have I done battle for the queen in other men’s quarrels; I 
have more right to do so now in my own. Take her then into 
your grace, for she is both true and good.’ ‘ Yea,’ cried Gawaine, 
‘ the king shall have both his queen and thee, and shall slay you 
both as it may please him. What cause hadst thou to slay my 
brothers who loved thee more than all other men ? ‘ Well thou 

knowest,’ said Lancelot, ‘ that it was done unwittingly, and that 
of free will I had as soon have slain my nephew Sir Bors. 

‘ Thou best,’ said Sir Gawaine; ‘ and while I live, I will make 
war upon thee.’ ‘Little hope then is there of peace,’ said Lance¬ 
lot, ‘ if thy mind be thus set; but if it were not so, I should not 
doubt soon to have the good grace of the king.’ In this Sir 
Lancelot spake truth; and by Sir Gawaine only was Arthur with¬ 
held from accord with Lancelot. 

Then at Gawaine’s bidding all Arthur’s knights called on 
Lancelot to come forth as a false and recreant knight; and 
Lancelot’s people would no more tarry within the castle walls, 
and he led them forth to the battle, charging all in any wise to 
save the king and Sir Gawaine. In this fight Sir Gawaine smote 
down Sir Lionel, who was borne away into the castle, but Sir 
Bors encountered with King Arthur and bare him to the ground. 
‘Shall I make an end to this war?’ he said to Sir Lancelot, 
meaning that he would slay the king. ‘ Lay not thy hands on 
him,’ cried Sir Lancelot, and lighting down he placed the king 
on his horse again, and said, ‘for God’s love stint this strife. 


io 6 Poptdar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Always I forbear you, but you and yours forbear not me; and 
call to mind also the things that I have done in times past/ 
Then the tears streamed from Arthur’s eyes, as he thought on 
the courtesy which was in Lancelot more than in any other man ; 
and the King could look on him no more, and riding away he 
said, ‘ Alas ! that ever this war began/ But presently Gawaine 
and Bors fought together, and both were sorely wounded ; and 
after this Arthur’s men were not so eager for the fray as they 
had been. 

The tidings of this war were borne through all Christendom ; 
and at last they were brought to the pope, who wrote bulls charg¬ 
ing the king straightly to accord with Sir Lancelot and to take 
his queen back again to him. And when the Bishop of Carlisle 
showed the king these bulls, he knew not what to do, for Gawaine 
would not suffer him to go back to the old friendship with Sir 
Lancelot. So it was covenanted that the king should take back 
the queen, and that Sir Lancelot should have the king’s word and 
seal that he should bring the queen and go back safely. So went 
the bishop to Joyous Gard, and told Lancelot of the pope’s will. 
Then said Lancelot, ‘More shall I rejoice to take her back than 
I rejoiced to bring her here; but I go not unless it be made sure 
to me that she will be free and that henceforth no words shall be 
cast against her.’ ‘Have no fear,’ said the bishop, ‘the pope 
must be obeyed; ’ and then he showed the pope’s writing and 
King Arthur’s; and Lancelot said, ‘ This is sure enough, for never 
Arthur brake a promise.’ 

So all was made ready, and Queen Guenevere went forth with 
Lancelot from Joyous Gard, clad both in white cloth of gold 
tissue, and with them a hundred knights in green velvet, each 
with a branch of olive in his hand in token of peace ; and when 
they reached the Castle of Carlisle, Lancelot stood before the king 
and said, ‘At the pope’s will I have brought the queen; and 
ready I am as ever to prove upon my body that she is both good 
and true; but thou hast given heed to lying men, and this has 
caused debate between us. And once more would I say that, had 
not the right been on my side, I might not alone have had power 
to withstand and slay so many knights when they called me 
recreant and traitor as I stood in the queen’s chamber.’ ‘ They 
called thee right,’ said Gawaine. ‘Nay,’ answered Lancelot, ‘in 
their quarrel they proved themselves not right; but ye ought to 
remember what 1 have done for you in times past, for if I could 
have your good-will, I should trust to have the king’s good grace.* 
‘ The king may do as he will,’ said Gawaine, ‘ but betwixt thee 


Arthur and his Knights. 107 

and me there can be no peace, for thou hast slain my brothers 
traitorously, and without pity.' ‘Have not I said,' answered 
Lancelot, ‘ that their death is my great grief ? And now am I 
ready to walk the land barefoot, and at every ten miles to found 
a house where they may pray always for their souls; and this 
were fairer and holier than to make war upon me, and this to no 
purpose.' Then was every eye that looked on Lancelot filled with 
tears, saving only Gawaine, who said, ‘ I have heard thy words 
and thy proffers, and the king may do as he wills; but if he 
accords with thee, he shall lose my service \ for thou art false to 
the king and to me.’ ‘ Nay,’ said Lancelot, ‘ if thou chargest me 
with this, I must answer thee.' ‘ We are past that at this time,’ 
said Gawaine ; ‘ for the pope's charge and the king’s pledge thou 
art safe to go back now; but in fifteen days thou art safe no 
more.' Then Lancelot sighed, and as the tears fell on his cheek, 
he said, ‘ Alas ! most noble Christian realm, whom I have loved 
above all other realms, now must I leave thee, banished ^nd in 
shame. Well is it said that in man’s life there is no sure abiding.' 
And to the queen he said, ‘ Madame, now must I depart from you 
and from this noble fellowship for ever; biit if ever ye be hard 
bestead by false tongues, send me word, I pray you, and if it be 
in the power of man, I will deliver you.’ Then he kissed the 
queen, and before all he said, ‘ Let me see now who will dare to 
say that the queen is not true to her lord.' 

So, while all wept for sorrow, Lancelot departed from the court 
for ever, and took his way to Joyous Gard, which ever after he 
called Dolorous Gard. Thence, having taken counsel with his 
knights, he passed over the sea and sailed to Benwick, and made 
his "knights kings and princes in the land; and thither came also 
Arthur and Gawaine with threescore thousand men to make war 
upon him. But even as before, Lancelot was loth to fight against 
the king, and he sent forth a damsel who should speak with King 
Arthur, if so be he might make peace. And when she was 
brought before him and told him of the large proffers of Sir 
Lancelot the king was eager to bear accord with him, and all the 
lords prayed him to go back to the old friendship ; but still Sir 
Gawaine said, ‘Now that thou art thus far on thy journey, wilt 
thou turn again 1 ’ ‘ Nay,’ answered Arthur, ‘ I will follow thy 

counsel; but speak thou to the maiden, for I cannot speak for 
pity.’ Then said Gawaine, ‘Damsel, tell Sir Lancelot that it is 
wasted labour to sue to mine uncle now; and say to him from 
me that I shall never leave him until he be slain or I.’^ So she 
went her way weeping; and when Sir Lancelot had this answer 


Io8 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

the tears ran down his cheeks. But his knights came round him 
and said, ‘ Why weep ? can we not match these in the field ? ^ 
‘ Yea, that we may,’ said Lancelot; ‘ yet was I never so loth to 
do battle, for I cannot strike at the man who made me knight.' 

So came Arthur and his men to Benwick and sat down before 
it, and day by day there was fighting and slaying of men; but 
when six months were past, one day Sir Gawaine called to Sir 
Lancelot to come forth as a coward and a craven; and when he 
heard these words Lancelot put on his harness and came forth 
for the battle. But none knew save King Arthur only that every 
day from the ninth hour until noon Gawaine’s strength increased 
threefold, once for each hour, and after that he became as he had 
been before. So for those three hours Lancelot struggled hard 
against him, marvelling that he could do no more than shield him¬ 
self against the strok^es of his enemy, but when he felt that 
Gawaine had gone back to his own strength, he said, ‘Ye have 
done your part, and now must I do mineand soon Sir Gawaine 
was smitten down. But his hate and his rage were not con¬ 
quered, and he charged Lancelot to slay him, or he would fight 
with him again to the death as soon as he might. ‘ Nay,’ said 
Lancelot, ‘I cannot slay a fallen knight, but I will withstand 
thee as I may.’ 

In a few days Gawaine was healed of his wound, and again he 
charged Lancelot to come forth as a recreant and craven knight. 
But it came to pass, as in the former fight, that Lancelot stood 
on his guard while Gawaine’s strength increased, and once more 
smote him down after noontide. Then as he lay struggling on 
the ground he said to Sir Lancelot, ‘ I am not yet slain: come 
near me and do this battle to the uttermost.’ ‘Nay,’ answered 
Lancelot, ‘ when I see thee on thy feet I will withstand thee, but 
I cannot smite a wounded man.’ ‘ Be sure then,’ answered 
Gawaine, ‘that when 1 am whole I will do battle with thee 
again.’ 

For a month Gawaine lay sick; but when he was now well- 
nigh ready for the fight, there came tidings which made Arthui 
hasten with his host to his own country. 



Arthur and his Knights, 


log 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE LAST DAYS OF ARTHUR, GUENEVERE, AND LANCELOT. 

When King Arthur sailed with his people for Ben wick, he left 
Mordred his sister’s son to be ruler over his land, and placed 
Queen Guenevere under his governance. But when Arthur was 
gone, Mordred caused false letters to be written which said that the 
king was dead, and he made the people choose him king and got 
himself crowned at Canterbury. Then going to Camelot he told 
the queen plainly that she must become his wife, and he named a 
day on which they should be wedded. But Guenevere asked only 
that he should suffer her to go to London to get ready what might 
be needed for the marriage; and Mordred trusted her for her 
fair speech and suffered her to depart. But Guenevere, when she 
came to London, shut herself in the Tower and kept it with 
many knights and men, and Mordred in great wrath came and 
laid siege to the Tower in vain. Then came the Bishop of 
Canterbury to him and said, ‘ Wilt thou shame thyself and all 
knighthood 1 How mayest thou wed thy father’s wife 1 Leave 
this wish, or I will curse thee with bell, book, and candle.’ * I 
defy thee,’said Mordred, ‘ do thy worst.’ So the bishop went 
away and cursed him; but when Mordred sought to slay him, he 
went to Glastonbury and served as priest hermit in a chapel. 
And soon word came to Mordred that Arthur was coming back 
to his own land; and he summoned folk to his standard, and 
many came, for they said that with Arthur was nought but war 
and strife, and with Mordred was much joy and bliss. So with 
a great host he came towards Dover, and there waited on the 
shore to hinder his father from landing in his own realm. But 
his people could not withstand Arthur and his hosts, and Mordred 
fled away with those that remained alive. 

When the battle was over, Sir Gawaine was found in a boat 
half-dead; and the heart of King Arthur was well nigh broken 
for sorrow, for in Lancelot and in Gawaine he had ever most joy. 
‘ My death-day is come,’ said Gawaine, ‘ but it is through my own 
wilfulness and hastiness, for I am smitten upon the old wound 
which Sir Lancelot gave me. But give me now pen, ink, and 
paper that I may write to him with my own hands.’ So Gawaine 
wrote to Lancelot, telling him how he had come by his death, 
and praying him to come and see his tomb, for the great love 


1 1 o Popt 4 <^r Romances of the Middle Ages. 

which there had been between them, and to remember tlie old days 
before this evil war begun. So at the hour of noon Sir Gawaine 
died; and it was told to the king that Sir Mordred lay with a 
new host on Barham Down. And the king went thither, and 
there was another battle, and Mordred fled away to Canterbury. 

But yet the war went on, and at the last it was agreed that 
King Arthur should on a set day meet Mordred on a down beside 
Salisbury. On the eve of that day Arthur dreamed that he was 
sitting in a chair which was fast to a wheel, and far beneath lay 
a deep black water in which were all manner of serpents and 
noisome things, and suddenly he thought that the wheel turned 
round and he fell among the serpents, and each seized him by a 
limb. Then he waked up in great dread, and after a while he 
slumbered again, not sleeping nor thoroughly waking, and he 
thought that Sir Gawaine came to him and many fair ladies wdth 
him; and he said, ‘Welcome my sister’s son; I deemed thou 
hadst been dead, and I thank God to see thee now alive ; ’ ‘ but 
who be these who have come with thee 1 ’ ‘ These,’ said Gawaine, 
‘ are ladies for whom I fought in righteous quarrel wliile I was a 
living man, and therefore God hath sulfered them to bring me 
hither to you, to warn you of your death; for if thou fight with 
Mordred on the morn, ye must both be slain and most of the 
folk on both sides. I bid thee then not to fight, but to make a 
treaty for a month, for in that time shall Lancelot come with all 
his knights who shall rescue you and slay Mordred and all that 
hold with him.’ 

Then the king waking called for his people and told them of 
his dream, and sent Sir Lucan and Sir Bedivere with others to 
Mordred, and a treaty was made that Mordred should have Corn¬ 
wall and Kent for King Arthur’s days, and all the land when the 
king should be dead. Then was it agreed that Arthur should 
meet Mordred on the plain. But before the king went, he warned 
his host if they should see any sword drawn, to strike in fiercely, 
for he in nowise trusted Mordred; and Mordred gave the like 
charge to his own people. So they met and drank wine together, 
and all went well until an adder came out of a little heath-bush 
and stung a knight on the foot; and when the knight felt the 
sting and saw the snake he drew his sword to slay the adder. 
But the hosts, seeing that sword drawn, blew the trumpets and 
shouted, and there was a fiercer battle than ever had been seen in 
any Christian Jand. All day they fought, and when the sun sank 
in the west there lay on the down dead an hundred thousand 
men. Then looking around him, Arthur saw that two knight# 


Arthur and his Knights. 111 

only, Sir Lncan and Sir Bedivere, were left, and these were sore 
wounded. ‘Now,’ said the king, ‘ I am come to mine end ; hut 
I would that I knew where were that traitor Mordred who hath 
caused all this mischief.’ At that moment he espied Mordred 
leaning on his sword among a great heap of dead men. ‘ Give 
me my spear,’ said the king to Sir Lucan, ‘ for I see the traitor 
who hath done all this wrong.’ ‘ Let him be,’ said Sir Lucan, 
‘ remember thy dream.’ ‘ Betide me death, betide me life,’ 
answered the king, ‘ he shall not escape my hands.’ Then run¬ 
ning with his spear toward Mordred, he cried, ‘ Traitor, thy 
death-day is come,’ and therewith he smote him so that the spear 
ran out through his body. Then Mordred, knowing that he had 
his death-wound, thrust himself up with all his might up to the 
ring of the king’s spear, and with his sword held in both hands 
he smote his father on the side of the head that the weapon 
pierced the helmet and the brain pan : and having so done he fell 
back dead. But King Arthur lay in a heavy swoon, and Lucan 
and Bedivere raised him up as they could, and led him betwixt 
them to a little chapel not far from the sea-side, and after a while 
they thought it best to bring him to some town. So they raised 
him up again, but Sir Lucan’s strength failed him in the effort, 
and he sank upon the earth and died. Then as Sir Bedivere wept, 
the king said, ‘ Mourn not now. My time hies fast. Take there¬ 
fore my good sword Excalibur, and throw it into yonder water, 
and bring me word again of that which thou mayest see.’ But 
as he went to the water-side, the jewels gleaming on the pommel 
and haft seemed to him too goodly to be thrown away. So he 
hid Excalibur under a tree. ‘ What sawest thou % ’ said the king, 
when he came back. ‘ Nought but the waves driven by the 
wind.’ ‘That is untruly spoken,’said the king; ‘go again and 
do my bidding.’ But it seemed to him still a sin to cast away 
that noble sword, and again he hid it away. ‘ What sawest 
thou'l’ said Arthur. ‘Nought but the waves as they plashed 
upon the shore.’ ‘ Nay, that is not truly spoken,’ said the king; 
‘ and now go again, and on the faith of a true knight do my bid¬ 
ding. Who would ween that thou who hast been to me so loved 
and dear wouldst betray me for the riches of the sword 1 ’ Then 
Bedivere went the third time to the water-side, and binding the 
girdle about the hilt, he threw the sword as far into the water as 
he might, and there came a hand and an arm above the water and 
caught it, and brandishing it thrice vanished away. So Bedivere 
hastened back to the king and told him what he had seen. 
‘ Help me hence,’ said Arthur, ‘ for I fear me I have tarried here 


I 12 


Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

over long.’ So Bedivere bare him to the water-side, and when 
they reached it they saw before them a barge with many fair 
ladies in it. ‘Now put me into the barge,’ he said, and Bedivere 
did so softly. And there received him three queens, and he laid 
his head in one of their laps, and that queen said, ‘ Ah, dear 
brother, why hast thou tarried so long from me % ’ Then cried 
Bedivere, ‘ Ah, my lord Arthur, what shall become of me now 
that thou goest away and leavest me here among my enemies ] ’ 

‘ Comfort thyself,’ said the king, ‘ and do as well as thou mayest, 
for in me is no strength to trust in. And as for me, I go to the 
vale of Avilion to heal me of my grievous wound, and if thou 
never hear more of me, pray for my soul.’ And ever the queens 
wept and wailed as the barge floated away. 

Now some of the old tales tell that when he could see it no 
more. Sir Bedivere went weeping into the forest, and, wandering 
all the night, came in the morning to a chapel and an hermitage; 
and the hermit there was he who had been Bishop of Canterbury, 
and he prayed now by a new-made grave. And Bedivere asked 
whose body was there laid, and the hermit said, ‘ I cannot tell 
you of any surety, but this night, at midnight, came a number of 
ladies bearing a corpse, "and offered a hundred tapers and a 
hundred bezants.’ ‘ Then it is my lord King Arthur,’ said Bedi¬ 
vere, ‘ that here lies buried,’ and therewith he swooned away for 
sorrow. But when he woke, he would no more go from that 
place, and there he abode with the hermit, serving God night and 
day. 

And some there are who say that of the three queens one was 
King Arthur’s sister Morgan le Fay, the second the Queen of 
North Wales, and the third was the Queen of the Waste Land.^: 
and with them was the Lady of the Lake, Nimue, who wedded 
Pelleas the good knight, and kept him to the uttermost of his 
days with her in great rest, and had done much good to King 
Arthur. 

And some again there are who say that Arthur is not dead, but 
that he shall come again and win the holy Cross. And yet others 
say that on his tomb were these words graven:— 

^)ic jaett ^rthurus xtx xpianbam faturus. 

And so the faith lived on that he who had been king long ago 
will yet be king again. 

When the tidings were brought to the queen that King Arthur 
was slain and all his noble knights, she became a nun at Almes- 
bury, and there lived in fasting, prayers, and almsdeeds. 


Artimr and his Knights, 113 

To Lancelot also came the news that Arthur was sore bestead, 
and in all haste he gathered his hosts, and crossed the sea to 
Dover. There when he asked the people of the king, they told 
him that the king was slain, and Lancelot wept for the heaviest 
tidings that had ever come to him. Then, having prayed long at 
Gawaine’s tomb, he hastened to Almesbnry to see the queen : and 
there, as he drew near, she swooned for sorrow and joy. But 
presently she said, ‘ Call yonder knight hither to me ; ’ and when 
he was come, she said, before all that stood by, ‘ Through tliis 
man and me has all this w’^ar been wrought, and through our love 
which we have loved together is my most noble lord slain. And 
now am I set to get my soul in health; and so I pray you, by our 
old love, that thou see me again in this life no more. Go then 
to thy realm, and there take thee a wife and live with her in joy 
and bliss, and withal pray for me.’ ‘Nay,’ answered Lancelot, 
‘ that can I never do; but the lot which thou hast chosen for 
thyself, that will I choose for me also, and for thee will I pray 
always. That which thou doest, I must do, for in thee has been 
my earthly joy : but if I had found thee so minded, I had taken 
thee now to my own realm; but since this may not be, I go my 
way, as thou hast bidden me. Wherefore, I pray you, kiss me, 
and never again more.’ ‘ Nay,’ said the queen ; and so they 
parted, but their grief was as though they had been stung with 
spears, and many times they swooned. Then her ladies bare 
Guenevere away to her chamber, and Sir Lancelot rode weeping 
all night through the forest, until he came to a hermitage between 
high cliffs ; and there he found Sir Bedivere with the hermit who 
had been Bishop of Canterbury ; and when he learnt from Bedi¬ 
vere the tale of all that had happened, he threw his arms abroad 
and said, ‘ Alas ! who may trust this world ? ’ Then he kneeled 
down and prayed, and besought the bishop that he might become 
his brother, and there he abode with Sir Bedivere. 

Meanwhile Sir Bors sought Lancelot throughout the land, until 
at last he chanced to come to the chapel, where he found him 
with the bishop and Sir Bedivere; and he too prayed that he 
might be suffered to put on the habit and to tarry with them. 
And yet seven other knights of the Round Table came thither 
and joined with them. So six years passed away, and then 
Lan jalot took the habit of priesthood, and for a twelvemonth he 
sang mass. But as the year drew to its end, he saw a vision 
wdiich bade him go to Almesbury where he should find Guenevere 
dead, and fetch away her body that it might lie by the side of her 
lord King Arthur. Even so it came to pass : for queen Guenevere 

H 


X14 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

died half-an-hour before Lancelot reached the nunnery, for she 
had prayed that she might not have power to see him again with 
her worldly eyes. 

Then Sir Lancelot looked upon her face as she lay dead, and he 
wept not greatly but sighed. On the morrow, when he had sung 
mass, they placed the body on a bier and took it away to Glaston¬ 
bury. Then was the mass of requiem offered : but when the 
coffin was put in the earth. Sir Lancelot swooned and lay long 
still, and the hermit came and waked him, saying, ‘ Thou art to 
blame, if thou displease God ■s^ith such sorrow.* ‘Nay,* said 
Lancelot gently, ‘ I trust I do not displease God, for He knows 
my intent. For when I remember the beauty and nobleness 
which was in her and in the king, and when I remember how by 
my fault and pride they were laid full low who were peerless 
among Christian people, my sorrow may never have an end.’ 

From that hour the body of Sir Lancelot wasted away; and 
after six weeks he fell sick and lay in his bed, and sending fo» 
the bishop, he prayed him to make him ready for his last journey. 

‘ Ye need it not now,’ he said, ‘ by God’s grace ye shall be well 
amended in the morn.’ ‘Nay,’ he said, ‘my body is near its 
death, I know well. I pray you therefore shrive me, and let my 
body be borne to Joyous Gard.’ 

In the night the bishop woke with great joy of heart, for in his 
sleep he had seen Lancelot standing before him with a great com¬ 
pany of angels, who bare him up to heaven and carried him 
through the opened gates. Then said Sir Bors that it was but 
the vexing of dreams; but when they went to his couch, they 
found him dead, and he lay as though he smiled. 

So, as he had desired, his body was borne to Joyous Gard, and 
laid in the fair choir, with the face bare that all might see him. 
And thither came, as the mass was sung, his brother Sir Ector, 
and when he knew that it v. as Lancelot who lay before him dead, 
he burst into bitter weeping. ‘ Ah, Lancelot,’ he said, ‘ thou 
wast head of all Christian knights, never matched of earthly hand, 
the courtliest that ever bare shield, the truest lover, the firmest 
friend, the kindest man.’ 

All his days thereafter Sir Bedivere abode in the hermitage. 
But Sir Bors and Sir Ector with the seven other knights who had 
tarried with Bedivere and Lancelot, went to the Holy Land, and 
there, when they had done many battles upon the miscreants, on 
a Good Friday they died. 


itl c r I i It. 


When Constaunce, King of Britain, who had freed the people 
from their enemies round about, was dead, his eldest son, Moyne 
the Monk, was taken from the cloister at Winchester to sit upon 
the throne. And seeing him to be an unwarlike prince, Angys 
the Dane gathered together an army of Danes and Saxons and 
sailed for Britain with many high-banked ships full of kings and 
earls. Then king Moyne looked that Sir Fortager, which was 
his father’s steward and captain of the host, should lead the 
Britons out to fight against Angys. But Fortager feigned sick¬ 
ness and would not go out to battle. Wherefore! King Moyne 
went himself, and being unskilled in fight, he was defeated with 
great slaughter; so that Angys took many British towns and 
castles, and fortified himself therein. Now twelve British kings 
which fought under King Moyne being much displeased at his 
losing this battle, said, ‘ If Fortager had been our leader this had 
not been so; ’ and again, ‘ As for this Moyne, a gabbling monk, 
he is no king for us;’ so these went to Fortager to ask his 
counsel; but Fortager replied, ‘ Seek counsel of your king ; it is 
time enough to ask for mine when Moyne is king no longer.’ 
Wherefore the twelve went straight to King Moyne and slew him 
as he sat at meat within his hall. Then they returned and 
greeted Fortager and made him king. Yet there were many who 
loved still the race of old King Constaunce, and some faithful 
barons took the two young princes, brothers of King Moyne, 
Aurilisbrosias and Uther-Pendragon, and sent them into Brittany 
lest Fortager should slay them also. 

Now Fortager gathered together all the British kings, and 
fought a great battle against Angys, and drave him to his ships, 
and would have killed him on the strand; but Angys sued for 
peace, and made a treaty with King Fortager to make war on him 
no more. So Angys sailed away with all the remnant of his host, 
and Fortager marched home in triumph. And while he made a 
feast there came to him the twelve kings which slew King Moyne, 
seeking reward, saying, ‘ 0 King Fortager, behold we have placed 
thee on high and made thee king; wherefore give us now our 


116 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

meed/ Fortager answered, ‘Being king, in sooth I will show 
how kings do punish treason:’ and he had wild horses brought 
and tare the traitors limb from limb upon his castle pavement and 
nailed their mangled bodies on his walls. 

Howbeit Fortager thereby kindled against himself the wrath 
of all who had helped him to the throne, and these rose up and 
joined with them which spake of bringing back Aurilisbrosias 
and Uther-Pendragon, and very few held still to Fortager; so he 
was hunted through his kingdom, and ofttimes beaten sore, barely 
escaping with his life. Then he bethought to send to Angys into 
Denmark, and promised half the kingdom if he would come and 
help him in this strait. And Angys came over again with many 
men and ships, and helped Fortager to fight against the Britons 
till the people were subdued, kept down by force of sword and 
spear. So the war ceased, but peace never came. Fortager went 
in daily fear of his life from the Britons whom he had betrayed ; 
nor could he now rid himself of Angys whom he feared almost as 
much lest with his great army he should seize the whole kingdom; 
and yet again he feared lest the Normans should come over and 
fight for Aurilisbrosias and Uther-Pendragon to bring them back 
to the throne of their father Constaunce. 

Then Fortager thought with himself to build a huge castle 
made of well-hewn stone and timber,—a mighty fortress with a 
lofty tower and battlements, deep ditch and heavy drawbridge,— 
the like for strength and bigness the world had never seen: and 
he would build it on the bleak waste of Salisbury Plain, and so 
dwell safe among his enemies. 

Three thousand men began the work at break of day, hewers 
of wood and carpenters and masons and such as wrought in carven 
stone. So they began to dig out the foundations and lay the 
mighty blocks of stone well clamped with iron bonds; and when 
night came they left the ponderous wall reared up breast high. 
Next morning, coming to their task, they marvelled much to find 
the great stones scattered up and down upon the ground, and all 
their work destroyed. They wrought another day and built the 
wall up as before, digging the foundations deeper still, and taking 
greater care to mix the mortar well and fit each stone and clamp 
it tight. But in the night the wall was overthrown, by what 
power none could tell. 

So Fortager called ten wise and learned clerks and shut them 
in a chamber open to the sky, to read the stars and find wdiy no 
man might build up this castle wall. And after nine days the 
wise men cam.e to the king and said, ‘ Sir, we have seen signs in 


Merlin, 


117 

the firmament how an elf-child has been born in Britain, knowing 
things past and things to come. Find the child and slay him on 
the plain, and mix the mortar with liis blood; so shall the w^all 
stand fast.’ Then Fortager sent men to journey three and three 
into all parts of the country, and seek the child. After wander¬ 
ing many days and weeks, one of these parties of messengers 
lighted on a town, where, in the market-place, some children at 
play were quarrelling in their game. ‘Thou black elfs son,’ the 
urchins said to one young playmate five years old, ‘ we will not 
play with thee, for what thou art we cannot tell.’ The messengers 
hearing these words thought this must surely be the child they 
sought, but Merlin (for it was he) did not leave them long in 
doubt. ‘Welcome, 0 messengers,’ said he—‘behold him whom 
you seek. Yet my blood will never make Fortager’s castle wall 
stand firm for all the wise men say—blind fools, who grope 
among the stars for secrets and blunder past the portents at their 
feet.’ Hearing this the men wondered greatly, saying, ‘ How 
wottest thou of our errand or of the king’s intent?’ Merlin 
answered, ‘ Pictures pass before my mind of all the things that 
be and shall be. I will go with you to Fortager and show what 
hinders building up his fortress on the plain.’ So he set out 
with the messengers, they on their horses, he upon a palfrey. 

Now as they journeyed through a town they saw a man buy 
strong new shoes and clout leather wherewith to mend them when 
worn out: and Merlin laughed. ‘ Why do you laugh ? ’ the 
messengers asked. He answered, ‘ Because the man will never 
wear the shoes.’ And sure enough he fell dead at his wicket gate. 
Next day they met a bier whereon was a child being carried 
to burial, and a priest sang at the head, and an old man followed 
behind and wept; and Merlin laughed again, for he said, ‘ Did 
these but know whose son lies there, the priest would weep and 
the man would sing : ’—and this they found true, for the lad was 
not the mourner’s son but the priest’s. And on the third day as 
they rode. Merlin laughed again, and being asked why, he 
answered, ‘ King Fortager in his palace is jealous of his wife’s 
good-looking chamberlain and threatens to take his life ; forsooth 
he wots not that this good-looking wight is but a woman in 
disguise.’ Then when they came to the palace they found it even 
as the child had said p and Merlin revealed the truth to the king, 
so the chamberlain was spared. Fortager marvelled much at the 
wisdom of this child of five years old, and talked with him 
about the mystery of his castle wall and why it was destroyed 
each night j and Merlin said, ‘ The fiends deceived your wise 


T18 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

men, showing false signs among the stars ; for all my kindred in 
the air are wroth with me because I am baptized into Christendom, 
and so they fain would trick me out of life. They care not for 
your castle wall, but only for my death. But send men now to 
dig a yard beneath the wall’s foundation ; they shall find a swift 
running water, and, underneath, two mighty stones which keep 
two dragons down. Every night at sundown these two dragons 
wake and do battle underground, so that the earth quakes and 
trembles and the wall is shaken down.’ 

Then straightway Fortager set his men to dig and find if this 
was true. And soon they came to the stream, which ran both 
deep and furiously ; so they made a channel lined with masonry 
and led the water off by another way. And in the river-bed were 
two heavy slabs of stone which it took many men to rear up : and 
there beneath them lay the dragons. One was red as flame, with 
eyes that sparkled like the glint from off a brazen helm, his body 
a rood long and his tail very great and supple. The otlier one, 
milk-white and stern of look, had two fierce grisly heads which 
darted fire white as levin forks. And as the dragons waked from 
slumber, all the men fled away quickly in a panic, save only 
Merlin. Then rising from their dens the two monsters closed in 
such a deadly combat that the air was full of the fire which they 
belched forth from their throats ; and the very clouds lightened 
to the thunder of the battle, and the earth shook. Thus they 
fought all that long summer night with fang and claw and tail; 
they fell and rose again and rose and fell, nor flagged neither till 
the day dawned. Then the red dragon drave the white into a 
valley where for a little space he stood at bay, until recovering 
breath he made a fierce onset, hunting back the red dragon into the 
plain again, where fixing him by the gullet, he tare him down and 
with his white hot flames scorched the red dragon to a heap of ashes 
on the heath. Then the white dragon flew away through the air. 

Now after this. Merlin grew in great favour with King 
Fortager, and was his counsellor in all things that he undertook. 
Moreover when the masons next began to build, the wall no 
longer fell down as before. So in due time they built the fortress 
on the plain, a mighty castle high and strong, of timber and of 
stone, ramparted about on every hand, a fair white castle the like 
whereof the world had never seen. 

When it waa done, men came to Fortager and prayed him ask 
of Merlin what the battle of the dragons should mean. So 
Fortager called Merlin, asking whether this strife betokened aught 
which should hereafter come to pass. But Merlin held his peace. 


Merlin, 


119 


Then waxing wroth King Fortagor threatened to slay him. 
Merlin smiled in scorn, saying, ‘ You will never see my death-day \ 
nay, if you bound nfe fast and drew your sword to strike, you 
would only fight with air.’ Then Fortager entreated him, and 
sware upon the holy books that no harm should come to him, what¬ 
ever the interpretation of the mystery might be. Then said Merlin, 

* Hearken to the reading of the portent. The re.l dragon so 
strong to fight betokens Fortager and all the power he has gained 
through killing Moyne the king; the white dragon with two 
heads, the rightful heirs Aurilisbrosias and Uther-Pendragon, 
whose kingdom you withhold from them. And as the white 
dragon, hunted to the valley, there regained his strength and 
drove the red dragon back to the plain, it means that these heirs 
whom you have driven to Brittany have there found help and 
succour, and even now sail hitherward with many thousand men, 
who will come and hunt you through the land till you are driven 
to your fortress on the plain, shut up therein, and with your wife 
and child there burnt to ashes. This is the reading of the 
portent.’ 

Then Fortager had great sadness of heart, and prayed Merlin 
to tell him how to avoid the fate he had foretold, or at least how 
lie might save his own life. But Merlin only answered sternly, 

* What will be, will be.’ And Fortager’s anger being kindled, he 
started up and put forth his hand to seize the seer, but Merlin 
vanished suddenly from his sight. And while they sought him 
still within the palace. Merlin was far av/ay in the cell of Blaise 
the holy hermit. There he remained long time, and wrote a book 
of prophecies of all the things to happen yet in Britain. 

But as for Fortager it all fell out as Merlin had foretold, for 
Uther-Pendragon with his brother Aurilisbrosias landed with an 
army and marched to Winchester, and the citizens seeing the old 
banner of their own British kings, overpowered the Danish 
garrison and threw the gates wide open for the sons of King 
Constaunce. And when Fortager and Angys came against them 
with a host of Danes and Britons, the Britons of their army 
would not fight against their brethren, but rose into revolt. 80 
Aurilisbrosias and Uther-Pendragon won an easy victory and 
pursued Fortager as far as Salisbury Plain, where he took refuge 
in the castle, and the Britons threw wildfire upon the walls and 
burned him there, together with his wife and child, and levelled 
the fortress with the ground. 

But Angys fled into a citadel whither Uther-Pendragon 
followed, besieging him therein, but he could not take the place 


120 


Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

since it was strongly bulwarked on a hill Then hearing some 
barons that had been with Fortager speak oftentimes of ^lerlin 
and his exceeding subtlety, Uther-Pendra^n sent out men to 
search for him. And on a day these messengers being at dinner, 
an old beggar-man with a long white-beard and ragged shoes, and 
a staff within his hand, came in and asked for alms. They 
jeered at him, bidding him begone. ‘ Wise messengers are ye,’ 
the old man said, ‘ that seek child Merlin, for he hath often met 
you by the road to-day, and yet you knew him not. Go home to 
Uther-Pendragon and say that Merlin waits him in the wood hard 
by; for truly ye will never find him.’ And as he spake these 
words the old man vanished suddenly. Scarce knowing if it were 
a dream, the messengers returned to Uther-Pendragon, who, 
hearing this, left Aurilisbrosias to maintain the siege while he 
went to the wood to seek for Merlin. And first a swineherd met 
him, next a chapman with his pack, each of whom spake of 
klerlin ; and last there came a comely swain who bade him still 
wait on, since Merlin would be sure to keep the tryst, but he had 
first some work to do. So the prince waited until far into the 
night and then he saw the swain again, who greeted him, saying, 
‘ I am Merlin; I will go with you to the camp.’ When they got 
there Aurilisbrosias said, ‘Brother, there came a swain in the 
night and waked me, saying, “ Behold Angys is come out from 
his citadel and has stolen past your sentinels, seeking to take your 
life.” Then I leapt up, and seeing Angys at the tent door I fell 
on him and slew him easily, for while the swain stood by I 
seemed to have the strength of ten, and my sword cut through 
the brass and iron mail as though they were naught. As for the 
swain, 1 missed him when the fight was done.’ Uther-Pendragon 
answered, ‘ Brother, the swain was Merlin, who is here with me.’ 
Then was Aurilisbrosias very glad, and both the princes thanked 
Merlin for his help. In the morning when they knew that their 
leader had been slain, the Danes and Saxons yielded up the 
citadel, asking only for their lives and for leave to sail away in 
I)eace to their own country. Thus the land was free again, and 
all the people took the elder of the brothers, Uther-Pendragon, 
and made him king in Winchester, and held a seven nights’ feast 
of coronation. 

After this. Merlin told the brothers that one of them would 
fall in a battle with a very great host of Northmen that wmuld 
come to avenge the death of Angys, yet would he not say which 
of them it should be. And in a little time the sea about the 
Bristol Channel was blackened with a multitude of crested ships, 


Merlin, 


I 2 I 


and Danes and Saxons swarmed upon the beach in numbers like 
the sand. Then Merlin divided the Britons into two companies, 
so that with one Uther-Pendragon might give battle from the 
front and draw them inland, whilst Aurilisbrosias witli the other 
stole round between the Northmen and the sea and fought them 
in the rear. The fight was fierce and bloody before the Britoni 
drove their foes to their ships. Of thirty thousand Danes and 
Saxons five thousand only went back, and Aurilisbrosias lay dead 
upon the sea-beach and with him fourteen thousand Britons, 
while on the battle-ground for a space three miles by two no 
man might walk without stepping upon the dead. Then Merlin 
made a tomb for Aurilisbrosias with huge stones which he 
brought from Ireland through the air by magic, and all the 
people mourned for him. 

For seven years after this Uther-Pendragon reigned and 
prospered, and conquered lands in Normandy and Brittany and 
Gaul, and Merlin counselled him in all things which he did. 
Merlin also made for him the famed Bound Table whereat the 
best and bravest knights might sit in equal seat. One place 
alone was kept vacant, wherein none might sit till he came who 
should fulfil the marvel of the Holy Grail. 

And all came to pass as the spirit of Merlin had foreseen, for, 
when Uther-Pendragon was dead, his son Arthur was chosen 
king when he had drawn the great sword which was fixed into 
the stone; and Merlin aided Arthur against all his enemies, and 
saved him from many perils which threatened his life. But at 
length the time drew nigh when Merlin should no more sojourn 
among men. 

And so it came to pass that Merlin made a wondrous tomb in 
the Church of St Stephen at Camelot over twelve kings which 
Arthur slew. He made twelve images of copper bronze overlaid 
with gold, and a figure of King Arthur raised above with his 
sword drawn in his hand. Each image bare a waxen taper which 
burned day and night. And Merlin told the king, ‘By these you 
shall be shown when I pass from the world of living men. That 
day the tapers will go out and never after be re-kindled. For 
you there remains a life of glory; the Sangreal shall be achieved, 
and you shall pass almost within its presence, yet not see it with 
your eyes, since they have looked too much upon the blood and 
dust of war to read the marvel of that holy thing. Fightings 
will never cease in your day, but you shall gain the victory and 
be king of Christendom, and at last die nobly in battle as a king 
should die. For me, alas! I must be prisoned in the air alive, 


122 


Popiclar Romances of the Middle Ages, 

and wait through ages for the Judge, awake through weary years, 
whilst others sleep beneath the quiet ground.’ 

Then Arthur counselled him, since he knew his fate, to guard 
himself against it by his subtile arts. But the seer answered, 
‘ That w'hich shall be, is : unchangeable as that which was.’ 

Now the spirits of the air, being very wroth at the discomfiture 
of all their plans, sought means, all through his life, to entrap 
Merlin, and snatch him from the world, but he being wistful of 
their schemes defeated them; nor could they in any wise have 
power on him until his work was done.. But as he waxed in 
years he was beguiled by a beautiful damsel of the liake, called 
Niniame, so that he fell into a dotage for love of her and would 
follow her whithersoever she went. But Niniame being passing 
weary of his love, made sport of him, and did but endure him for 
the wonders which he showed her. And it befell that one day as 
they sat together in a wood at Broceliande, she entreated Merlin 
to teach her a certain powerful spell, whereby a man might be 
shut up for ever in a naiTow space about the earth, walled in by 
air, invisible to all for evermore. And this she begged with tears 
and promised him her love if he would show it her. And when 
she wearied him with asking, and beguiled him with many sweet 
words, he showed her all she asked. Then Niniame lulled him to 
sleep upon her lap, and rising softly, wrought the spell in the 
air; and so shut Merlin up for ever in a blackthorn tree within 
the lonesome wood at Broceliande, where his spirit, tangled in a 
hopeless maze among the weird black twigs, the more inweaves 
itself in trying to get free. 


§ir ^cistrcm. 

RoTiAND Rise, Lord of Ennonie, was fighting for home and lands 
against Duke Morgan the invader; and the noise of the battle 
reached even to the tower where his wife Lady Blanche-Flor, lay 
in her chamber. Many times the lady sent by Rohand, her 
faithful messenger, for tidings how the battle went; many times 
came back the answer, ‘ The fighting is furious, but neither army 
yields a yard of ground; ’ and again, ‘ The sword of Roland Rise, 
your lord, is reddened with the blood of full three hundred of his 
foes.’ Presently there came a clatter at the castle gate, and a 
faithful steed bore home his master’s body, not slain in fight, but 
foully smitten by a traitor’s dagger. And when the lady knew 
her lord was dead, and all the land was conquered, she swooned 
away, and then her child was born. She named him Tristrem; 
for she said, ‘Thy welcoming is sad, my son.’ Then, calling 
Rohand, she charged him to bring up the child as his own; and 
drawing from her finger a golden ring, said, ‘ Keep it for my 
boy till he is grown, then let him take it to my brother Mark, 
the King of Cornwall—he will know the ring he gave me, and 
thereby that Tristrem is his sister Blanche-Flor’s son.’ Soon 
after that, she drooped and died, and Rohand took the child 
home to his wife to bring up with his own babes secretly, for fear 
of the usurper. 

Duke Morgan sent commandment to all the nobles of Ermonie' 
to yield up burgh and city, and come to his council to pay 
homage. Cruel and haughty was he to his enemies; yet none 
gave brooch and ring, and shared rewards among his friends so 
freely as Duke Morgan. Rohand came to the council, rendering 
homage with his lips for sake of peace and Tristrem his dead 
master’s son; but his heart burned hot against the usurper all the 
fifteen years he bowed beneath his yoke. 

Now when Tristrem was grown a tall and comely youth, well 
skilled in knightly games, in books and minstrelsy, and practised 
in the customs of the chase, there came from Norway a merchant 
ship, freighted with hawks and treasure; and the captain 
challenged anyone to play at chess with him, staking twenty 


124 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

shillings a game against a white hawk. Tristrem went on board 
and played six games, and won six hawks ; still they played on, 
for higher stakes each time, till he had won a hundred pounds. 
Then the captain, since he could not win the money back, deter¬ 
mined to beguile Tristrem of it, and so gave orders to get up 
anchor and let the ship drift out of haven with the ebbing tide. 
Meanwhile they played and played and took no note of time. 
Presently, rising from the table, Tristrem looked about and saw 
only the grey sea and the fast waning shores, and wept, thinking 
of Rohand and his home; but the mariners laughed at his dis¬ 
tress, and, having bent the sail and manned the oar-banks, they 
stood for the open sea. Contrary winds and storms beset them 
ceaselessly nine weeks. Wild waves shattered their oars, their 
anchor brake, and the tempest tare their sail to ribands and 
snapped their cordage. Then the mariners feared and said, ‘ ’Tis 
for the boy’s sake the sea rages at us, since we have defrauded 
him.’ So they set him ashore at the first land they sighted, and 
paid his winnings, giving him, besides, food and rich presents, to 
appease the waves, and sailed away. 

It was a land of hill and forest, with black, bare, spray-beaten 
cliffs rising from out a rock-strewn sea. As the vessel sailed 
away and grew into a speck against the sky, Tristrem’s heart 
began to sink for loneliness ; but having kneeled upon the beach 
and made his prayer to God, he rose more cheerfully and climbed 
the cliffs. A-top he found a pathway, and learning from two 
palmers that he was in Cornwall, promised them ten shillings to 
bring him to the king’s court, where he thought perchance to get 
emplojrment. Turning aside through a large forest they shortly 
came upon a party of hunters resting from the chase, whilst men 
brake up in quarters the stags that had been slain. The hunters 
took note of Tristrem from the handsome robe of blue and brown 
wherein the mariners had clothed him, and began to talk; while 
he, on his part, mocked at their ignorance of venery and the 
bungling way they mangled the tall game. Then said the 
hunters, ‘We and our fathers have always so cut up the deer, but 
yonder lies a beast unflayed; show us a better way; we are not 
loth to learn.’ 

Tristrem thereupon took the buck, and carved it in true 
hunting fashion; apportioning to the forester his share, giving 
the hounds their due, and feeding the raven on the tree. Then 
he took the huntsman’s horn and blew the mort. 

Much wondering at his skill, the hunters brought him straight¬ 
way to Castle Tintagel, to King Mark, who hearing of his 


Sir Tristrem, 


125 

cunning made him ruler of his hunt. And Tristrem sat at meat 
with the king, and being asked his parentage said he was 
Kohand’s son of Ermonie (as he in truth believed). After tlie 
feast ale and mead were served in cups and horns, and the king's 
harper came and played a lay, whereat Tristrem found much fault, 
so that the harper grew angry and said, Show me the man will 
play it better.' ‘ Truly,’ answered Tristrem, ‘ it would not otherwise 
be just to blame your playing.’ Then taking the harp he played 
so wondrous sweet thereon that even the king’s harper was 
constrained to own he never heard the like before, and all that 
sat by marvelled at his music. Thereupon King IMark, being 
greatly astonished and pleased, caused Tristrem to be clad in a 
sumptuous dress and appointed to have him always at court to 
har}) in the king’s chamber morn and night to charm away his 
care. 

Now Eohand wandered over land and sea to find his foster-son, 
and after searching through seven kingdoms till his garments 
were in tatters, he at length fell in with one of the same palmers 
which had guided Tristrem to King Mark, and so found his way 
to Tintagel. But the porter and the usher, deeming him a mere 
beggar would not let him pass, until, when Rohand had given to 
each a fiiir ring of gold, they changed their minds, and taking 
him for at least a prince, brought him to Tristrem. Not knowing 
Rohand in his rags, Tristrem at first spake harshly, but finding 
who it was, he kneeled, and having asked forgiveness brought 
him joyfully to King Mark, and claimed the beggar-man as 
his father before all the nobles, who tittered and made sport of 
him. Then Rohand was taken to a bath, and his great rough 
beard having been trimmed, and his tangled white hair combed 
smoothly out in locks, Tristrem arrayed him in a knight’s 
scarlet robe, fur-broidered ; and as he walked into the hall and 
took his seat beside the king at the banquet table, all they 
which before jeered at the ill-clad beggar were ashamed 
before his lordly presence. 

After the feast Rohand told the story of Tristrem’s birth, 
showing Blanche-Flor’s ring in token, whereat King Mark was 
exceeding glad and received Tristrem as his nephew. Moreover 
all the knights and ladies of the court kissed him and paid him 
obeisance. But when Tristrem heard how his father Roland Rise 
had met his death through treachery, he prayed King Mark for 
leave to go to Ermonie to avenge his death. Though loth to part 
with him, and fearful of the enterprise, the king dubbed Tristrem 
knight, and gave him a thousand men and many ships, where- 


126 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

with he sailed away with his foster-father, and after seven days 
voyage they came to Eohand’s castle in Ermonie, and garrisoned 
themselves there. But fretting to remain within the walls, Sir 
Tristrem said, will disguise myself and go and speak with 
Morgan, for I cannot rest longer idle in the castle/ So he took 
fifteen knights, each bearing a boar’s head for a present, and came 
to Duke Morgan as he sat at meat. Howbeit Eohand determined 
to follow him with his army, ‘ For,’ thought he, ‘ the youth is 
vengeful, and may be will provoke Duke Morgan and be slain/ 

Sir Tristrem laid his present down before the Duke and spake 
thus ;— 

‘ God requite thee, Sir King, as thou hast dealt with me and 
mine.’ Duke Morgan answered, ‘ Whether thou bless or curse, I 
seek not, but thine errand "I ’ 

‘ Eecompense,’ said Tristrem, * for my father’s death and for 
my heritage of Ermonie.’ 

Then Duke Morgan called him beggar’s brat, and smote him 
in the face with his fist, whereat Sir Tristrem drew his sword and 
the knights at table rose up to seize him ; but at that moment 
Eohand and his men came up, and so began a battle which spread 
over all the land, for manj^ barons joined to put down the usurper 
and restore the kingdom to the son of Eoland Else. With his 
own hand Tristrem slew Duke Morgan, and then, Eohand helping 
him, he routed all the army and drave them out of Ermonie. So 
having regained his land, he bestowed it upon Eohand to hold in 
vassalage, and taking ship sailed back again to Cornwall. 

Kow the King of England sent Moraunt, a noble knight, the 
Queen of Ireland’s brother, demanding tribute of King Mark, to 
wit, of gold and silver and of tin three hundred pounds by the 
year, and every fourth year three hundred children. Then up and 
spake Sir Tristrem how no tribute was due, since Cornwall was 
ever a free kingdom, offering with his body to make good the 
truth in single combat. Moraunt told him that he lied, and 
drawing a ring from off his finger gave it to Sir Tristrem for a 
gage of battle. 

Next day they sailed to an island to fight; but when Tristrem 
came to land he turned his boat adrift, saying, that one boat 
would be enough to bring home the conqueror. Furiously they 
rode together and drave their spears through each other’s shield, 
the lion on Sir Tristrem’s and the dragon on Moraunt’s being 
pierced ; then they wheeled about and met again with a ringing 
clash of arms and armour, till Moraunt’s horse brake his back 
with the sliock of his master’s spear against Tristrem’s hauberk. 


Sir Tristrem, 


127 


Then as they fought on foot, fast and fiercely with their swords, 
Tristrem, being sorely wounded on the thigh, grew well-nigh 
mad with pain, and with one swift-handed heavy stroke cleft 
Moraunt’s helmet to his skull, breaking the sword point in his 
brain. So Moraunt fell dead. 

Then Sir Tristrem returned to Tintagel amid great welcomings, 
and going to the church kneeled down before the altar and oifered 
up his sword in thanksgiving; and King Mark appointed him 
heir of Cornwall to rule the country after him. But Moraunt’s 
folk bare his body back to Ireland to the queen, with Tristrem’s 
sword-point still sticking in the skull. Leeches came from far with 
salve and drink to heal the wound in Tristrem’s thigh, but for all 
that they could do it festered and grew worse, and a canker broke 
out which would not be stayed, for, as it turned out, Moraunt’s 
sword was poisoned. So loathsome grew the wound that none 
would, abide to be in the chamber where Tristrem lay, save only 
Gouvernayl his fcxithful servant; for the decaying flesh fouled 
all the air. Forsaken of his friends and thus become a pest to 
everyone, Sir Tristrem entered into a little ship with Gouvernayl 
and his harp for company, and let the vessel drift whither it 
would. Nine weeks he lay in pain, and thought to die within the 
boat, but his harp solaced him when nothing else could ; then 
the wind driving the vessel into Dublin haven, he crawled 
ashore. 

It was a summer evening and the wind had ceased. Sea and 
sky scarce seemed to move, but floated in a smooth, still dream; 
and Tristrem, resting on the beach, tuned his harp to a sweet 
melody while the whispering waves lapped softly on the shore. 
The Queen of Ireland and her daughter, fair Ysonde, sat at their 
palace window overlooking the sea, and hearing such tender 
music, came down to see the harper, whom they found surrounded 
by a crowd of wondering folk hushed into silence at his skill. 
When they asked his name and country Tristrem put himself upon 
his guard, for he knew the queen was sister to Moraunt whom he 
had slain. So he gave his name as Tramtris, a foreign merchant, ^ 
who had been robbed and wounded sore by pirates. Then the 
queen, who had marvellous skill in medicine, undertook his cure, 
and having caused him to be carried to the palace, got ready a 
potent bath of herbs wherein he bathed from day to day and the 
wound began to heal. Till he regained his strength, Tramtris 
remained within the palace and became tutor to the beautiful 
Ysonde, whom he taught in minstrelsy and chess and poetry till 
she became as skilful as her master. But when he got well, 


128 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

vainij^ they besought the learned merchant Tramtris to abide in 
Ireland at the court. Not even the rare beauty of his pupil, the 
fair Ysonde. could make him stay. For Tristrem, cif the battle¬ 
field, was a grave and quiet man, whose soul was in his book and 
harp, who had no thought nor care for love, to whom fair women 
were fair pictures and no more—Ysonde, j)erchance, the fairest— 
but a lay upon his harp was worth them all. 

So being healed, he sailed back to Cornwall, where he told the 
story of his cure, with a grim pleasure at having beguiled the 
Queen of Ireland to heal unwittingly the slayer of her brother; 
and as he spake often of the loveliness and skill of fair Ysonde, 
how bright and beautiful she was. King Mark became enamoured 
of the picture Tristrem drew. Then the barons, jealous of 
Tristrem’s power with the king, persuaded Mark to send him to 
demand the princess in marriage; thinking, when the knight 
returned to Ireland as ambassador from Cornwall and bearing his 
proper name, the queen would surely slay him to avenge the 
death of Moraunt. Tristrem, though he liked not the errand, 
w^as forced to go, since, as he was heir to the throne, the barons, 
if he had said nay, would have accused him of selfish ends in 
wishing the king not to marry. 

Wherefore he came again to Ireland in a richly laden vessel, 
and sent messengers ashore with costly presents to the queen and. 
23 rincess, craving an audience. Tut the messengers returned, 
saying that the people of Dublin were hasting from the city in 
panic-stricken crowds because of a monstrous fiery dragon which 
had come upon the land and ravaged it. They told, moreover, 
how the king proclaimed the hand of fair Ysonde as the prize of 
the man who should rid the country of this fearful pest. Then 
Sir Tristrem took his spear and shield and girt on his sword, and 
being come to land, gat him to horse and rode till he encountered 
the fiery dragon. 

The good spear shattered against the monster’s flinty hide; 
the brave steed staggered and fell dead before the dragon’s fiery 
breath ; but Tristrem, leaping to his feet, fought all day long 
against the scaly beast, and though the flames which it belched forth 
burnt the armour from his body and scorched his flesh, yet 
Tristrem rested not until he hewed its neck-bone in twain and 
cleft its rocky skull. Then having cut out the dragon’s tongue 
he placed it in his hose and set out to return; but his hot skin 
drew the poison of the tongue into his body, whereby being over¬ 
come with faintness, he sank down nigh the carcase and lay 
there senseless. Now the king’s steward passing by, thought 


Sir Tristrem, 


129 

both the monster and Sir Tristrem dead, and so cut off the 
dragon’s head, and taking it to the palace demanded of the king 
his daughter. Howbeit the queen, doubting his tale, would first go 
with Ysonde to see the battle-field. There they found a dead 
steed, and pieces of armour partly melted, and shreds of a rich 
robe that had been torn. Ysonde said, ‘ This is not the steward’s 
steed nor yet his armour, nor his robe; ’ and when they came to 
a man lying on the ground and found the tongue within his hose, 
they said, ‘Verily this is he that slew the dragon. So kneeling 
at his side they gave him a cordial, whereon Tristrem, opening 
his eyes, claimed the victory, and offered to make good his story 
on the steward’s body in single combat for the wager of his 
merchant ship and cargo. ‘ A merchant'? ’ Ysonde whispered to 
her mother—‘ pity he were not a knight.’ But they knew him 
not. They helped Sir Tristrem to the palace and led him to a 
bath, and while the queen went to make ready a healing drink, 
Ysonde remained alone with her champion. She thought within 
herself, ‘ I know his face and his long arms and broad shoulders 
—surely it cannot be Tramtris my old tutor ! ’ Then searching 
for something to confirm her thought, she picked up Tristrem’s 
sword, but when she saw that the point was broken, her mind 
went off upon another track, for she knew the broken sword- 
point they had found in Moraunt’s skull was carefully preserved 
in a chest within the palace. So she ran and fetched the piece, 
when lo ! it fitted Tristrem’s. Thereby being well assured that 
this w^as the slayer of her uncle, she called loudly for the queen, 
and these two between them would have slain Tristrem in the 
bath with his own sword, but that the king, entering at the 
moment, would first hear the truth of the matter. Wherefore 
Tristrem pleaded that he had indeed slain the queen’s brother, 
but in fair and open battle, though Moraunt had treacherously 
used a venomed sword. Then he called to mind how as Tramtris 
he had rendered service as tutor to Ysonde, whilst since that 
time he had so highly praised her that he was even now come 
over as ambassador to seek her hand in marriage on behalf of 
Mark the King of Cornwall. By this being pacified towards 
Tristrem, and learning moreover how he slew the dragon, the 
king commanded to cast the steward into prison ; but to Tristrem 
he paid great honour, and having set him by his side arrayed in the 
richest apparel, he caused Ysonde to be led forth and gave iier 
liand to him in presence of the court. ‘Yet,’ said the king, ‘I 
had far rather that you should wed her yourself.’ ‘ Sire,’ he 
answered, ‘ if 1 did I should be shamed for ever in this world 

I 


130 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

as false to the promise I have made to King Mark.’ So 
Tristrem made ready to depart to England with his uncle s 
bride. 

Now the Queen thought, ‘ King Mark has never seen Ysonde, 
and may not care for her, nor she perchance for him. What if 
they do not love each other when they wed 1 ’ Wherefore she 
mixed a powerful love-potion, that the pair drinking together of 
the cup upon their marriage night should thereafter love each other 
so dearly all their lives that nothing in the world might ever 
come between those two. And this she gave to Brengwaiii, 
Ysonde’s maid, charging her to be discreet and careful. 

Soon after the ship put out to sea, the wind veered round, 
blowing dead against the prow, so the mariners were forced to 
take in sail and bend to the oars to make headway in the teeth 
of wind and sea. Tristrem sat on the oar-bank and with his 
sinew}^ arms pulled single-handed a great stern-oar meant for 
two, till, thirsting at his labour, towards twilight he called for a 
drink. Brengwain went for it, but by misadventure in the dark 
she brought the cup wherein the love potion was and gave it to 
Ysonde to bear to Tristrem. So he drank of it unwittingly and 
gave it to Ysonde, and she drank also, and they drained it to the 
dregs. Then love sprang up within their hearts which nothing 
while they lived should ever quench again. All through that 
fortnight’s voyage their time passed like a musing dream; for 
they were drunken with the cup and knew not what they did, 
nor how the days slipped by, what sky was overhead, what 
foaming hills of sea their labouring vessel climbed, nor how the 
rowers toiled: they only knew they loved and ever thirsted for 
more love. Long did Tristrem battle against the new love that 
sprang up in his breast, sore tempted to put the vessel’s head 
about and make for another land where he might wed Ysonde 
and live in happiness. But dearer than self or love to Tristrem 
was the honour of a knight on ambassage. He had often borne 
his life in his hand for knighthood’s sake and for King Mark, but 
now after a mighty conflict he did more. For being come to 
land, he took Ysonde whom he loved so dear, and Avith a stern, 
set face led her forth to Mark to be his bride, whilst all the man 
was broken in an agony of soul. Merrily went the marriage 
feast with games and minstrelsy; but Tristrem’s harp wailed 
piteously; his faith he had not broken but well-nigh his heart. 

But King Mark held lightly by the gift which Tristrem gave 
so painfully. For there came a minstrel earl seeking a boon 
before he would play, and Mark having pledged his kingly word 


Sir Trislrem, 


131 

to ^ve whatsoever he should ask, the minstrel played his lay aii^d 
claimed the queen for guerdon, when, rather than forfeit his oath, 
King JNlark suffered him to lead away the Lady Ysonde—the 
price of a song. 

When Tristrem learnt this after he came back from hunting, 
his whole soul brake out in bitterness against the king. Then 
seizing his harp he hasted to the beach, and seeing the earl sail 
away upon the sea wntli the queen, he played a wild, sweet song 
which Ysonde heard afar off, and being taken with a great love¬ 
longing she made the earl put back, saying that she was sick and 
that nothing could comfort her but the sound of Tristrem’s harp. 
They being come to shore. Sir Tristrem laid aside his harp and 
drawing his sword fought with the earl. But Ysonde, seeing 
neither got the advantage, and fearing for her lover, ran between 
their swords, craving a boon of the earl. When he promised to 
grant it she said, ‘ Go, journey to King Arthur’s court and tell 
Queen Guenevere there are but two knights and ladies in the whole 
wide world henceforth, and these are Guenevere and Lancelot, 
and Tristrem and Ysonde.^ So being caught in his own trap the 
earl was forced to depart upon his errand. But Tristrem brought 
Ysonde to the palace and restored her to King Mark, saying 
bitterly, ‘ Sir King, give gleemen other gifts in time to come.’ 
Yet Sir Tristrem and the fair Ysonde loved ever together. 

A knight there was of King Mark’s court named Meriadok, 
who seeing Tristrem watch the queen and worship her with all 
his eyes whenever she passed through the hall to court or 
banquet, set himself to spy if ever they met or talked together; 
for he thought to curry favour with the king. One winter even¬ 
ing he found that a man had walked across the snow towards the 
palace with sieves upon his feet to hide the tracks; he also picked 
from a nail by the queen’s door a morsel of a green doublet such 
as Tristrem wore, and he gave it to the king. So Mark went to 
his wife and pretending to be about to journey to the Holy Land, 
asked in whose charge she would be left the while. Without a 
thought she answered, ‘ Tristrem’s; ’ but Brengwain her maid 
having whispered to her to be on her guard, she added—‘ that is 
because he is your kinsman ; but otherwise leave me rather to 
the care of Meriadok or any other knight.’ So for that time the 
king thought no more of it; but afterward Meriadok persuaded 
him to send Tristi-em away to a neighbouring city. 

There Tristrem grieved since he could no more see the queen; 
for the love that was between them twain no tongue can tell, nor 
heart think it, nor pen write it. But at last bethinking him 


132 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

that the river of the city where he was flowed past Ysondes 
garden bower at Tintagel, he cut down a hazel branch, and hav¬ 
ing smoothed it with his knife cast it in the river with these 
words written thereon :—‘ A honeysuckle grew around this hazel 
branch and twined it closely in its arms ; but the hazel being cut 
down the hotieysuckle withered and died, and thus made its 
moan : “ Sweet friend, I cannot live without you, nor you without 
me.’” And Ysonde found the branch floating in the streani, and 
knew it was from her lover; and after that, sometimes by linden 
chips, at other times by twigs or flowers, the river bore messages 
to lier from Tristrem, so she always knew his mind. But 
jMeriadok set a dwarf to watch in the forest for their trysting- 
place, and having found it, came and told the king. So the king 
went, and waiting till he spied the pair, crept softly up to listen 
to their discourse. But Tristrem saw the king’s shadow on the 
grass, and immediately raising his voice he turned his discourse, 
and began angrily to upbraid Ysonde for setting his uncle’s mind 
against him, and bitterly reproached her as the cause of his 
banishment. Ysonde replied in the same strain, saying she would 
never be satisfied till he was driven from the land, for the scandal 
he had brought on her fair fame; to which Tristrem answered 
that he would gladly escape from her malice and go to Wales if 
she would only obtain for him a small bounty from the king with 
his dismissal. On this King Mark, convinced that his jealousy 
was unfounded, came out of his hiding-place quite overcome with 
joy and tenderness, and having embraced the pair restored Tris¬ 
trem to favour, and so far from consenting to his departure 
besought hini to return to Tintagel as high constable of the king¬ 
dom, to make amends for the injustice done to him. 

Three years dwelt Tristrem at the court, going to and fro 
about his business at the palace, and all that while he strove 
vainly against the passion that consumed him. The cup’s sweet 
poison rested on his lips and in his heart; and on her lips and in 
her heart; and for their very lives they could not help but love. 
What time, the banquet tables being cleared, the knights and 
dames sate round to hear his lays. Sir Tristrem sang for her alone 
and played for her, and saw none other in the listening throng; 
whilst for Ysonde Sir Tristrem was the one knight in all the 
world. And all men knew of their love and spake of it save the 
king, who would not know and would not see; for he felt that 
Ysonde had never been his wife except in outward show, nor ever, 
spite of all her strivings, could belong to him : and being awed 
at the great love of Tristrem and Ysonde, he would fain have 


Sir Tristrem. 


133 


kept them near to him and one another, thinking thus ■with his 
love to keep theirs in bounds. He sorrowed for himself because 
he knew that Ysonde’s love was not his, and could never be : but 
he w<^ a man of gentle mind, and most he sorrowed for the lovers, 
blaming himself for wedding her; and sometimes, for the pure 
love he bare to both, he wished that death might take him, and 
so leave them free; for he was greatly touched to see them strive 
so hard to do their duty and be nought to one another. 

But one day, across a flour-sprinkled floor, Meriadok tracked 
Tristrem on a visit to the queen. Then being discovered, 
Tristrem fled; but King Mark for his honour’s sake must needs 
take Ysonde to Westminster to prove her innocence by public 
ordeal of red-hot iron. 

Disguised as a ragged peasant, Tristrem followed her and came 
and stood upon the Thames bank with the crowd. Ysonde looked 
around for one to bear her from the shore to her ship, and her 
eyes fell upon the peasant, and knowing him for Tristrem, she 
said that he and no other should carry her. Whereupon the 
ragged peasant took her in his arms; and when he had carried 
her into the midst of the water he kissed the queen, in sight of 
king and court and all that stood upon the shore and in the ship. 
The queen’s servants would have drowned the peasant for the 
dire insult, but Ysonde pleaded for him, that being an uncouth 
man and ignorant of courtesy, perchance he meant no harm—so 
they let him go. Then being brought to her oath the Queen 
declared herself a guiltless woman, saying that no man save the 
king and that rough beggar which carried her across the water 
had ever kissed her lips. So when the red-hot irons were brought, 
" the king would not suffer her to touch them, but being contented 
with her oath he caused her innocence to be proclaimed. 

Then Sir Tristrem journeyed into Wales and offered his services 
to King Triamour, who being besieged by a certain giant prince 
named Urgan, welcomed him gladly. This Urgan, brother to 
Duke Morgan whom Tristrem slew in Ermonie, no sooner saw 
his enemy than he challenged him to mortal combat. The giant 
fought with a twelve-foot staff which he swung with mighty force; 
but Tristrem, nothing daunted by the crashing blows against his 
armour, with a deft stroke cut off Giant Urgan’s right hand by 
tlie wrist, and while the giant fled to his castle for a cunning 
salve Tristrem picked up his bloody hand and rode off therewith 
to the city; but Urgan galloping back overtook him on the city 
bridge, where they lought fiercely together, till the giant, being 
thrust through the body, in his pain leaped over the bridge-side 


134 Popular Ro 7 nances of the Middle Ages. 

and was drowned. Then King Triamoiir offered to giv^e up his 
kingdom to Sir Tristrem, who nevertheless would take no gift 
except a beautiful dog named Peticrewe, a present for Ysonde. 

The fame of Tristrem’s new exploit being noised abroad reached 
King Mark, who prayed him to return to Tintagel. So Tristrem 
came, and was received joyfully by Mark, who made him grand 
steward of the realm and loaded him with honours. 

But it was still as it had been before, and still Tristrem and 
Ysonde thirsted each for the other. Their love departed not, 
neither for weal nor woe, through all their lives. Together they 
were banished, after much long-suffering from the king. They 
fled, Tristrem and Ysonde, into a wood, where, dwelling in a 
rocky cavern and living on venison which Tristrem took in the 
chase, the two abode a twelvemonth save three weeks. 

At length King Mark came hunting to the forest, and peering 
in at a cranny of the rock saw the face of golden-tressed Ysonde, 
lit by a ray of sunshine as she slept, and by her side a naked 
sword betwixt her and Sir Tristrem. Then from the token of 
the sword deeming them yet loyal to him, he stopped the cranny 
with his glove and waited. Presently Tristrem rose up and left 
Ysonde sleeping in the cave. Then King Mark spake kindly and 
tenderly to him, and would again have been reconciled, and 
would have brought him back to Tintagel. But Tristrem could 
not bear Mark’s gentle words; and knowing all, dared no more 
go back to wrong the man that trusted him ; but rather, being 
touched by Mark’s great faith, sought how to tear himself away 
from Ysonde’s sweet love, and so repay by sacrifice the undeserved 
confidence of the king. Wlierefore Tristrem held his peace, and 
went away alone among the old familiar trees where he and 
Ysonde long had walked and loved. Bitterly he walked and 
crushed the withered leaves beneath his heel, communing with 
himself until he wrenched his mind round into this resolve—not 
to go back, never to see her more, not to return to take one last 
farewell, lest all his strength should fail him, but to leave her 
sleeping and pass out into the world with no other keepsake than 
Ysonde’s gold ring which rested on his finger. And lest, in spite 
of him, his very feet should rise up in rebellion and carry him to 
her presence, he would cross the sea and never any more come 
back. So resolved, he quickened his pace until he ran. Each 
footstep seemed as cruel as though his heart were under foot: 
yet he sped on. So when Y'sonde awoke, her knight was far 
aw^ay. Mark took her home to I'infagel; hut Tristrem with a 
firm set purpose, self-banished, took ship and came to Spain. 


Sir Tristre^n, 


135 


Long he wandered there, a grave and solitary man, communing 
only with his harp, and plaining on its strings the woe that made 
his heart to bleed. And in those days Sir Tristrem made three 
lays, ‘ The Lay of Death,’ ‘ The Song of Ysonde,’ and ‘ The Lay of 
Love which dieth not.’ Then, as a knight should do, he shut his 
grief within his heart and sought in battle for a refuge from his 
care. 

In Spain he slew three giants; then, passing through Ermonie 
where Eohand’s sons ruled as his vassals, he abode with them a 
little space and afterward came to Brittany. There he fought 
the battles of Duke Florentin until he rid him of his enemies, 
and so having gained favour with the duke, he was brought to 
:he palace, where he dwelt for many months. 

Duke Florentin had a daughter, passing fair and gentle, whom 
men called Ysonde of the White Hand. And as she sat in the 
palace, hearing Tristrem sing with wild passion the ‘Song of 
Ysonde ’—Ysonde the beautiful, Ysonde the fair—she thought 
that the song was in her praise, and that the music which woke 
love within her own breast was meant for her. So she went to 
the duke her father and besought to be given in marriage unto 
Tristrem. Wherefore the duke spake often with Tristrem about 
his daughter, praying him to wed with her and promising half 
the kingdom as a dower. But Tristrem long held his peace, or 
made excuse that he should never wed, until wearying of the 
duke’s importunity, and feeling something of compassion for 
Ysonde of the White Hand, who seemed to pine for him as he did 
for Ysonde of Cornwall, and smitten moreover a little with her 
name, the name so dear to him, he yielded listlessly, and they 
were wed. But as they passed out from the church, now man 
and wife, the ring, the keepsake of the Queen Ysonde slipped 
from his finger to the pavement. Then his heart reproaching 
him with treachery, he thought on all she had suffered for his 
love, and was suffering now, away in Cornwall; wherefore he led 
his wife to his castle gate, and having appointed her a retinue 
and maintenance, he turned his horse and went away and dwelt 
in another part of the land, leaving Ysonde of the White Hand a 
maiden wife. 

Near Tristrem’s solitary home dwelt a savage giant, Beliagog, 
on whose lands none dare hunt; but Tristrem hunted there and 
defied the giant to come out and fight. Vainly did Beliagog hurl 
his long barbed darts at his strong foeman, for Tristrem closing 
with him cut off his foot, and made him go upon his knees and 
beg for mercy. Sir Tristrem bound him, as the price of sparing 


X 36 Popular Ro77tances of the Middle Ages. 

his life, to build a lordly castle in honour of Queen Ysonde. So 
he made lame Beliagog labour at carrying great stones and heavy 
timber trunks. Then sent he to all parts for skilful workmen to 
rear the walls, and cunning carvers who could work in stone the 
image of all things that be. In the castle was a hall of traceried 
work wherein the life of Tristrem was portrayed in imagery. 
There one might see Ysonde and Brengwain, Mark and Meriadok, 
Rohand and Duke Morgan, Moraunt and Urgan—all so like tliat 
they seemed to breathe—with Tristrem harping to Ysonde, in 
court, in hall, in bower ; and everywhere was Ysonde, with Tris¬ 
trem ever at her side. There Tristrem long dwelt, a lonely man, 
gazing upon the imagery and harping on his harp. 

One day Ysonde of the White Hand, in speaking with her 
brother Ganhardin, betrayed by an unwitting word that her 
husband visited her not. Partly from shame and partly from 
hope to win him back, she had kept silence heretofore. There¬ 
upon Ganhardin rode angrily off to Tristrem and demanded the 
reason of his neglect. Then spake Tristrem haughtily, ‘ Since 
your sister has betrayed the only secret that there was or ever 
could be betwixt us, I will never look upon her face again.’ For 
he fretted at the empty marriage-bond, and gladly caught at an 
excuse to sunder it more widely. His own suffering made him 
cruel; so he neither knew nor pitied the patient love which his 
wife bore to him. Then he led Ganhardin to his castle hall and 
showed the picture of Ysonde taking the cup from Brengwain’s 
hand. ‘ See,’ said he, ‘ how fair she is; thrice fairer than your 
sister. Fair Ysonde, who art and must be while I live my only 
love ! ’ And Ganhardin, seeing her beauty only in marble, had 
not another word to say, but speechless sat regarding the imagery, 
whilst Tristrem, musing, let his fingers stray upon the harp and 
played the ‘ Lay of' Love which dieth not.’ 

Ganhardin sat as it were in a trance before the pictured image 
of Ysonde, until at last so greatly did he desire to gaze on her in 
life that he entreated Tristrem to take him to Cornwall so that he 
might see with his own eyes that her beauty was not overdrawn. 
Then Tristrem told the story of his love to Ganhardin, who the 
more entreated him to go to Britain, till, wavering with persuasion 
from his old resolve, he sailed with Ganhardin to Cornwall. 

Now Ysonde was in great distress and trouble that Canados, the 
king’s high constable, ever since Tistrem’s absence, had impor- 
tum d her with love, and now sought to carry her off by force of 
arms. Glad was the fair Ysonde when Ganhardin brought her 
Sir TrisLrem’s ring. And she and Brengwain went blithely 


Sir Tristrem, 


137 


bnik with him to the wood and told Tristrem all their strait. 
Hut Canados, being apprisipd of their meeting, came with a great 
army, and Tristrem and (fanhardin finding it hopeless to do 
battle against so many, and not wishing Mark to hear of their 
arrival, fied, whilst the queen and Brengwain sought to escape to 
the palace. Canados overtook the queen at the palace gates, but 
fearing then to carry her olf, came straight to the king and told 
how Tristrem was come back. Brengwain was very angry to 
think that Tristrem fled, nevertheless she told King Mark the 
rejyson why Canados was so hot against him, whereat the king 
being enraged at the presumption of his constable banished him 
straigditway from the palace. 

After this, that he might look upon Ysonde’s dear face again, 
Sir Tristrem stained his cheeks and dyed his hair, and came to 
the palace dressed in a cap and bells, with a fool’s wand in his 
hand, and went daily in and out as jester to the court. But 
Brengwain, who alone beside the queen knew him in this 
disguise, upbraided him continually with his flight from before 
h;s enemies. Then Tristrem openly in the court threw olf 
his jester’s dress, and desired a tournament to be proclaimed that 
he might clear the queen. Meriadok and Canados were 
challengers, and Tristrem and Ganhardin rode against them in 
the tourney, and after a bloody combat slew them both and put 
to rout the rest of the talebearers. 

Then Tristrem sailed again for Brittany to the castle which 
Beliagog had made for him. And Ganhardin came home and told 
his sister all that he had seen. Ysonde of the White hand had 
long sought patiently to win her husband to her side, but when 
her brother told of the Belle Ysonde of Cornwall, hope died out 
from her breast, and in its place there came a steadfast jealousy, 
as patient as her love. The colour faded from her face, till that 
grew white like the fair hands wherefrom she took her name. 

Now on a day, as Tristrem rode alone in the wood, he met a 
young knight named Tristrem like himself, who begged his help 
against a band of fifteen knights which had carried off his lady. 
Sir Tristrem rode after the party and attacked them on a lea 
beside the forest. His namesake fell in the fray; but Tristrem 
concjuered all those knights and slew them without mercy to 
avenge his death. Nevertheless after the victory he lay down on 
the ground and fainted, for a poisoned arrow had smitten him on 
the old wound which he had received in battle with Moraunt. 
"Men found him senseless in the wood, and bore him, not to his 
own castle but to the castle of Ysonde of the White Hand, which 


138 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

happened to be near. Glad was she to get her lord, though 
wounded, underneath her roof. Day ^ind nieht she watched him 
with a jealous tenderness, hungering for his love-and seeking but 
a smile in payment of her care. It came not. In his pain he 
dreamed but of the Fair Ysonde, and in his wanderings raved 
her name. 

The wound grew worse and cankered, and the poison spread. 
Tristrem lay near death’s door. No leech could cure his wound. 
Only one living soul could save his life, and that was she for 
whom alone he thought it worth the saving—Ysonde of Cornwall, 
who knew her mother’s art. Then he called Ganhardin secretly, 
and giving him Ysonde’s ring to bear for a token, said, ‘ Take 
ship and hasten to her. Bid her come for her love’s sake and 
heal me. Tell her, lest I see her not, that I have loved her 
always and her only.’ Then his heart sank as he thought, ‘ Will 
she come, and will she be in time?’ So he whispered to 
Ganhardin again, ‘ Death presses heavily upon me. Yet I crave 
to last till you come back. If only I could know that Ysonde 
came with you, though I lay at the very point of death and the 
ship were far away, so sweet would be the tidings I could not die 
till she were here. I pray you take two sails, one black, one 
white; and as you voyage homeward, if Ysonde be with you in 
the vessel hoist the white sail for a sign ; if not, the black. So, 
as I lie here wearying for the ship, I may know the quicker if 
sweet Ysonde perchance has not forsaken me.’ Then Ganhardin 
sped away to do his bidding. 

But Ysonde of the White Hand had overheard every word that 
Tristrem spake to Ganhardin ; and her heart grew very cold and 
pitiless. Gloomily she sat watching at the window for the ship 
to come. A little speck, far olf upon the wide gray sea, grew 
nearer, and the vessel hove in sight,—^with a glittering white sail 
filled full in the fair breeze, the rowers straining their brawny 
arms to gain the shore in time, and a woman standing in the prow 
impatient of their utmost speed. Well knew Ysonde of the 
White hand who it was. One little hour and she must give her 
husband, not yet hers, into another’s arms to tend, and suffer lips 
more dear to press his cheek and soothe his pain, as hers had 
vainly hungered long to do. 

Tristrem lay in light slumber, the breath coming fast and faint, 
but the murmurings of his wife roused him; and looking on her 
face he knew that the vessel was in sight. Painfully he lifted 
himself upon his bed and strove to move where he might see, but 
he had not strength. 


Sir Tristi^em, 


139 

‘ WTiat sail, what sail 1 ’ he cried, all hoarse and flushed, and 
trembling betwixt hope and fear. 

‘ Black, black! ’ she answered from her stone-cold lips. 

Then shuddering with despair unspeakable to know himself 
forsaken of Ysonde, Tristrem covered up his face and fell back 
dead. 

But the ship came to land, and Ysonde, springing to shore, 
scarce heeded them which told, her of her lover’s death, but came 
running to the castle, and up into the chamber where he lay, and 
where his wife mourned loudly for him. 

‘Away, woman,’ cried the Fair Ysonde in a hushed, soft voice, 
with a grief too terrible for tears,—‘ away, and let me weep for 
him, for he is mine.’ And none dared hinder her, for fear fell on 
them all for the greatness of her woe. Then falling on Tristrem’s 
body she gathered it in her arms, crying, ‘ He is mine—he loved 
me, he is mine.’ 

So, like a wearied child, she sobbed herself to sleep upon her 
lover’s breast. Neither did any disturb her more, for they knew 
her slumber was death-fast. 

King Mark sent and fetched their bodies to Cornwall. A letter 
tied to the hilt of Tristrem’s sword told the king the story of the 
love-potion and of the loves of Tristrem and Ysonde. Long 
mused he thereupon; and he wept, seeing the writing of his 
nephew and the sword that had set Cornwall free; and knowing 
all, King Mark forgave them freely. Together he laid them in a 
fair tomb within a chapel, tall, and rich in carven work; and 
above he set a statue of Ysonde, wrought skilfully in her very 
likeness as she lived. And from Sir Tristrem’s grave there grew 
an eglantine which twined about the statue, a marvel for all men 
to see, and though three times they cut it down, it grew again, 
and ever wound its arms about the image of the fair Ysonde. 


^cbis of Divmtotttt. 

Stk Gtrr, Earl of Hamtoun, took a young wife in his old age, the 
King of Scotland’s daughter, by whom lie had a son named i>e\ds. 
But his wife never loved him though he doted on her even to 
foolishness; nor did she wed Sir Guy of her own accord, but of 
her father’s will, for she had long before given her heart to 
Divoun, Emperor of Almaine. Eight years she wearied of the 
earl’s caresses, praying he might die; but life ran strong witliin 
the old man’s veins. At last, tired ot waiting longer for his 
death, she inveigled Sir Guy to go a-hunting in Hare Forest by 
the sea, and sent secretly to Divoun to come with a band of men 
and lie in ambush to slay him there. 

Divoun, in his armour of proof, had pricked on before all his 
knights in Hare Forest, and so met Sir Guy alone, without either 
shield or armour, clad only in hunting dress and by his side a 
sword. 

‘Yield now, old greybeard,’ said Divoun, ‘and let it make 
death bitter to thee to know that I shall slay thy brat also, and 
take thy wife to be my leman.’ 

‘ Though I be old,’ answered Sir Guy, ‘ and have no armour 
and no weapon but my sword, God helping me, I yet can fight 
for wife and child.' Furiously he rode against Divoun and turned 
his spear aside, grappled the man by great strength from his 
saddle, and filing him to the ground ; then got olf his steed, but 
scorned to smite the cowering emperor whining at his feet for 
pity. ‘Fool,’ said Sir Guy, ‘you held an old man’s strength too 
cheap.’ Just then from out the brushwood came galloping a 
thousand knights to the succour of Divoun, and these hemmed in 
Sir Guy on either hand. Like some old lion at bay, he shook 
himself, and something of the old might came back into his limbs, 
and all the old courage to his heart. He broke their ranks on 
every side, and reaped among the men as does a reaper with his 
sickle; so they fell and bowed before his sword like ears of corn 
at harvest-time. So he reaped on, until he cut three hundred of 
them down, till his arm waxed weary of the slaughter, and he 
was overcome with faintness. Then only dared his enemies rush 


Bevis of Hamtoun, 141 

m on him to bear him to the earth, and that same craven Emperor 
Divoun with his own hand smote off the noble white-haired head 
which never harboured an unkindly thought of knight or dame, 
nor plotted treachery. 

Then Divoun wedded with the lady of Sir Guy, who brought 
him all the earl’s possession for a dower. But the child Bevis, 
who was five years old, continually reproached his mother with 
her wickedness, charging her with his father’s murder, insomuch 
that her very life became burdensome. Wherefore she sent to 
Saber, good knight and vassal of Sir Guy’s, saying, ‘ Take away 
this brat and send me proof that he is dead, so I may live in 
peace.’ Saber promised with a heavy heart, but had pity on the 
child for old Sir Guy’s sake, who had been good to him ; where¬ 
fore on getting home he took a boar and killed it, and having 
sprinkled the boy’s garments with the blood, sent them to his 
mother ; but Bevis he dressed in ragged clothes and sent him to 
the fields to tend the sheep. 

One night, while herding the sheep upon the down, Bevis 
looked out towards his father’s towers and saw the castle lighted 
up and heard the sound of tabours and of minstrelsy, and he was 
angry. He said within himself, ‘ I, the earl’s son, in rags keep 
sheep—houseless in the bleak night, whilst the earl’s murderers 
make merry with feasting and dances." Then, taking his 
shepherd’s crook in hand, he went to the castle, forced his way 
past the porter at the gate and marched gravely up the hall 
through all the dancing and the revelry, till he came to the bench 
where sat Divoun and his mother in state. ‘ What do you here, 
Divoun,’ he cried, ‘upon my lands and in my castle without 
leave % Base murderer and coward! ’ Then in sight of all ho 
smote the emperor thrice with his crook upon the crown. But 
Divoun and his wife feared the boy, scarce knowing if it were not 
in truth his spirit, for they believed him dead. Neither did any 
that were in the hall lay hands on him, for many were his father’s 
vassals, and the rest were struck with wonder seeing the grave 
demeanour of the child. So he passed out and came to Saber, 
telling what he had done. But Saber was very sorry, since now 
it was known that Bevis was alive it would be no longer easy to 
protect him from his mother’s wrath. And so it fell out, for 
Saber had barely time to hide the boy behind the arras when his 
mother entered the house, demanding her son, and threatening 
Saber with loss of all his possessions if he failed to give him up. 
But Saber refused, since he feared for the boy’s life. Then Bevis 
came out of his own accord from behind the arras, and stood 


142 Poptilar Romances of the Middle Ages, 

before her. ‘ Mother,’ said he, ‘ Saber must not suffer for me, he 
has done you no wrong. I am here \ do with me as you will/ 
Then she called without, and four knights entered. ‘ Take this 
child/ she said, ‘ and carry him down to the sea-shore—seek there 
for heathen merchants that sail far east, who will sell him for a 
slave among the Paynim and these men did her bidding. 

The merchants who bought Be vis sailed to a distant country 
called Ermony, and because Bevis was a handsome and stalwart 
lad they made him a present to the king. The king’s name was 
Ermyn, and his wife Morage had died, leaving him a little 
daughter, Josian, his only child; and she was very beautiful: her 
hair like a sunshine-dappled stream, eyes tender as forget-me-nots 
upon its brink, her snow-pure skin warm with the colour of her 
quick young blood. Now King Ermyn soon came to love Bevis 
as a son, for he was a handsome boy, and bold and free of speech; 
so he made him his page to have about him always in the palace ; 
and he was Josian’s playmate, till as the two grew on in years she 
waxed more shy, and Bev^is awkward, and confused in his boy’s 
love for her; whilst Ermyn, not ill-pleased, looked on and smiled 
at the pair. And when Bevis was fifteen years of age, and well 
grown in strength and beauty, the king said, ‘ Bevis, stay with 
me in Ermony ; I have no heir but Josian, and when you both are 
grown I will give her you to wife, and you shall rule the country 
after me; only forsake the God of Christendom and bow before 
my lord Apollyon.’ Then Bevis answered stoutly, ‘ Neither for 
gold nor silver, nor even for sweet Josian’s love, will I forsake 
Christ that bought my soul so dear.’ But Ermyn, himself a bold 
king, liked Bevis none the less for his steadfastness, so instead of 
flying into a rage he made the lad his chamberlain, and promised 
in due time to dub him knight. 

One day, as Bevis rode out with fifteen Saracens, they began 
to rebuke him for taking pleasure on a day kept holy by the 
Christians, it being Christmas Day. But Bevis answered that 
dwelling for ten years among the heathen he had lost all :xunt 
of time, and knew not what day it was. Then they reviled both 
him and his holy faith, whereon Bevis told them angrily that if 
he were but a knight and had a sword and lance he would joust 
with their whole company one by one for the honour of his Cod. 
At this the Saracens set on him all at once, pricking him with 
their swords, now here, now there, in savage sport as men bait a 
bull, till Bevis, smarting with the torment of his many wounds, 
rushed on them in a fury, and breaking a sword from out the 
first man’s hand, struck down the Saracens to right and left, 


143 


Bevis of Hamtoun. 

cleaving some in their saddles, beheading some, and running 
others through hauberk aud shirt of mail to the heart, until he 
found himself alone beside a heap of slain; and fifteen stray- 
horses ran riderless back to their stables. Then Bevis rode home 
in great pain from his wounds and gat him to his chamber, where 
he lay down and swooned. 

When King Ermyn heard of the slaughter of his knights he 
was very angry, and swore that Bevis should pay for it with his 
life. But Josian spake up for him, and prayed her father first 
to hear what Bevis had to say for himself. So Josian sent two 
knights to Bevis saying, ‘ Come to the palace and fear nothing, 
for I will make thy peace with the king.’ Yet Bevis would not 
rise to speak v/ith the knights. ‘ Away !’ said he, ‘ you heathen 
dogs, before I slay you as I did your brother hounds \ and tell 
you pagan mistress I have no message for her save that she is a 
heatheness and accursed of God and Christian men.’ Howbeit 
Josian meekly received this hard message, saying only to her 
knights, ^ Go back again and take me with you.’ So she came to 
Bevis in his chamber and lifting up his head into her lap, kissed 
him on the lips and forehead, speaking gentle words; and so 
comforted and solaced him that all his care fled away. Then with 
ointments which she brought she anointed his wounds so that the 
blood staunched and the pain left them, and afterwards she 
brought him with her to King Ermyn. There in the court Bevis 
showed the wounds he had received, and told how the affray 
began; whereon King Ermyn prayed Josian to prepare the best 
chamber in the palace, and to nurse and tend him till he was 
well, for he said, ‘ I had rather lose all my treasure than such a 
doughty knight.’ Now Josian being a skilful leech and cunning 
in herbs and physic, Bevis soon got well of his wounds, and 
became eager for some fresh battle. 

In the king’s forest was a great wild boar, so terrible and 
strong he tore men and dogs to pieces, and had slain many 
knights. But Bevis went against him with a spear and sword, 
and got the mastery of the flinty-hided swine, and cut off his 
head. He finished this battle about the time of evensong; then 
blowing on his horn the tokening, he walked back through the 
wood alone, bearing the boar’s head aloft on the broken truncheon 
of his spear; but his sword he left in the swine’s carcase. Now 
King Ermyn’s steward, being jealous of his favour with the king, 
lay in wait for Bevis in the wood, with four and twenty knights 
and ten foresters, for he thought if he should now kill Bevis his 
death would be accounted to the boar. But Bevis fought with 


144 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

liis truncheon and the boar’s head for shield, and quicldy beat 
down the steward, whom he dragged from his horse and so gat 
his sword, the trustiest that ever man yet bare—its name, 
Morglay. And not one could stand against Bevis and Morglay, 
nor did he give them time to flee but slew them there, all four- 
and-thirty men. And Josian from her tower afar oft’ saw the 
mighty deeds which Bevis did. 

Three years after came King Brademond the Saracen with a 
great army to demand Josian in marriage, having heard the fame 
of her beauty. King Ermyn was in great strait how to defend 
himself, for his army was much smaller than Brademond’s. But 
Josian told how Bevis single-handed slew the thirty-four men 
that came against him in the wood, and said, ‘Make him a 
knight, that he may be my champion to defend my cause against 
King Brademond, for I wish no better man; and fear you not the 
number of the Saracen host, for Bevis is an army in himself.’ So 
King Ermyn made Bevis kneel, and having dubbed him knight, 
appointed him to bear his banner into battle. Then the king 
gave him a shield, blazoned with three eagles azure and flve 
silver sables on a golden field. Josian embroidered him the 
banner he should bear, and gave him also a hauberk of rare 
and curious work, worth many a town, and for a steed she gave 
him Arundel, the best and most faithful horse in all the world. 
With her own fair hands she armoured him and girt his good 
sword Morglay at his side. So he rode forth to lead King 
Ermyn’s little host of five-and-forty thousand men to battle. 

Then as Brademond came against him, with a giant for his 
standard-bearer called Redesoun leading the way. Sir Bevis 
smote Arundel with his golden spurs, and riding out before all 
the army, came down upon this grimly giant like a whirlwind, 
drave his spear through shield, hauberk, and mail, and smote his 
great carcase dead to earth. Then the armies closed. King 
■ Ermyn’s knights did valiantly, but Bevis slew more than all the 
rest together, for the Saracens went down before his sword 
Morglay like grass before the scythe—so that by nightfall there 
was cause of mourning at Damascus for threescore-thousand men 
that never would return. As for Brademond, him Bevis over¬ 
threw, but spared his life on his promise to do homage every 
year to King Ermyn and pay him tribute; so gathering the 
remnant of his host together, the Saracen king went home again, 
too thankful to carry back his life to sadden after Josian any 
more. 

Then Sir Bevis returned victorious to the palace of King 


145 


Bevis of Hamtoun: 

Ermjni, who straightway commanded Josian to disarm her 
knight, clothe him in a rich robe, and wait on him herself 
at table. So they made a great feast, and the king set Sir Bevis 
on high above all the lords of his court. And afterward, as 
Josian sat by Bevis on a bench, he moody and silent, she said: 

* Hast thou not a word for me, Bevis 1 I have been very patient. 
I have waited for thy love till I am heart-sick, and I needs must 
speak. Not one little word 1 O ! Bevis, if thou lov’st me not I 
needs must die : my heart will parch and wither in the drought 
like flowers that die for rain.’ But he, though loving her as his 
life, yet feared to mate with one that served Mahound. ‘ Nay, 
Josian,’ he answered bitterly, the while he rocked himself for 
very trouble of heart, ^ nay, I have nought to speak. You have 
many wealthy suitors of your faith—there is Brademond. For 
me, I shall not wed.’ ‘ 0 love,’ cried Josian, ‘ I had rather have 
thee to my spouse though thou wert poor and evil spoken of by all 
mankind, than take a mate, less rich to me, who called the world 
his own. Sure thou dost love me, Bevis 1’ But he locked his 
hands together on his knees, and, without looking at her, said, 

* ’Fore God I cannot love thee, Josian.’ Then in sore distress she 
fell down at his feet and wept bitterly; but presently she stood up 
with scorn and anger in her tearful eyes : ‘ Go, you unmannered 
churl,’ she said, ‘ go dig the ground and clip the hedges as a churl 
should do. I was a fool to waste my love on such as you, while 
princes, emperors, and kings would gladly bend to call me theirs. 
Despised, disdained of a churl, a common low-born churl!’ 
‘ Lady,’ said Bevis, very cold and quiet, ‘ I am no churl I My 
father was both earl and knight of Britain, and Knight of 
Britain is^ a nobler rank than king of a few paltry heathen here 
in Ermony. I will go to my country. There is the horse you 
gave me, take it back; and your tawdry banner. I will have 

I nothing that is yours. A churl! a churl I’ So he rose and left 
her, that word rankling in his mind, and rode off into the town. 

But when he was gone, Josian repented bitterly of having so 
becalled the fairest knight in all the land, and she sent Boniface, 
her own chamberlain, to hasten after him with this message ;— 
Josian says, ‘ I am to blame, and I repent me sore of all I said, 
and humbly pray a word of kindness from my lord.’ 

But Bevis, fuming yet within his chamber, only said, ‘ There is 
no answer, tell your lady. Yet you may say the churl has paid 
you wages for your errand;’ and he gave Boniface a mantle of 
white samite, gold-broidered; a present wortliy of a king. 

Thereupon Josian, very sad at heart, came herself to Bevis, and 

K 


146 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

entered the chamber where he lay feigning to. sleep, and fell upon 
his neck, and kissed him, saying, ‘ 0 love, I come myself to make 
my peace, for I am all to blame. But speak a word to me.’ 
Then he said, ‘I am weary, let me lie, but-go thou home.’ ‘Nay,’ 
answered Josian, ‘not until thou dost forgive me,’ and she wept 
upon his breast. ‘ Bevis, for thee will I forsake my gods, and 
take thy God for mine, and thee for ever for my lord, so I may 
only follow thee throughout the world.’ Then said Bevis, ‘Now 
I can love thee without stint, dear Josian;’ and he kissed her 
tenderly. Bo she departed with a blithe and happy heart. 

There were two knights whom Bevis had rescued from beneath 
Brademond’s sword in the battle, and these dwelt with him in 
the house, his guests; but they were envious of him and of his 
favour with the king, even as saith the old saw, ‘ Deliver a thief 
from the gallows, and he will never rest till he has hanged thee 
thereon.’ So these two thankless fellows went privily to King 
Ermyn, and falsely swore that Sir Bevis had been guilty of foul 
wrong against his daughter Josian, when she visited him in his 
chamber; and cunningly prayed him to keep the matter secret 
for Josian’s sake and her fair fame. King Ermyn was very wroth 
and very sad, yet said he, ‘ I cannot spill this traitor’s blood my¬ 
self, since he saved my life and lands and child from Brademond.’ 
Then the two knights counselled him to write a letter to his 
vassal Brademond at Damascus, bidding him avenge the fault, 
which he would gladly do as the conquered rival of Sir Bevis, and 
to send the letter by the hand of Bevis himself. Wherefore the 
king sent for Bevis, and gave him a sealed letter to King Brade- 
inond, charging the knight on no account to break the seal or give 
the missive into other hands than Brademond’s. Neither would 
he let him take his good horse Arundel nor his sword Morglay, 
saying that it befitted not a peaceful messenger to go upon his 
errand like a warrior. So Bevis rode off upon a common hack, 
unarmed, and all unknowing that he bare in his breast a letter 
warranting his death. 

Now as he drew nigh Damascus, a palmer that sat beneath a 
tamarisk tree asked Bevis to partake his meal, and Bevis, nothing 
loth, consented, little witting that this palmer was no other than 
Saber’s own son Terry, whom Saber had sent out to travel 
through all lands and find what had become of Bevis. After 
their meal the men began to talk. Terry told who he was, and 
how he sought a knight named Bevis who was sold among the 
Paynim when a child. ‘ For,’ said he, ‘ my father Saber dwells 
now in a castle in the Isle of Wight, and every year claims this 


Bevis of Hamtomu 147 

boy’s heritage from Divoun, and fain would find Bevis to help 
him gain liis earldom from the usurper.’ 

But while Bevis mused whether he should reveal himself or no, 
the palmer espied the silken strings of a letter in Bevis’s breast. 
‘Come/ said he, ‘let me read your tidings, for I am a clerk, and 
many a man ere now has carried his own death-warrant for want 
of clerkship.’ ‘ Aye,’ Bevis answered, ‘ 1 was warned of this, lest 
any man should ask to read the message which I bear. But I 
have sworn that none save he to whom it is written shall break 
the seal, and I will answer for my promise with my life. As for 
this Bevis of whom you speak, I knew him some time since; he 
went among the Saracens and I rather think they hanged him to 
a tree, for he has not come back. It is vain to seek him further, 
for being his friend I certainly should have heard of him were he 
alive.’ Then Terry returned to his father in the Isle of Wight, 
and told him that Bevis must have died among the Paynim; and 
Saber mourned much at the tidings. 

When Bevis came into Damascus to King Brademond’s palace, 
he was well nigh dazzled with its splendour. The doors and 
pillars were of shining brass, and many burnished pinnacles and 
minarets pierced the blue sky. The windows were of bronze and 
set with glass, the halls inlaid with^ gold and carven work. 
There was a deep moat round the palace, and a broad high bridge 
across the ditch with sixty bells which rang whenever man or 
beast passed across, and by the bridge end, a gold and azure 
tower whereon a golden eagle with big jewelled eyes gleamed and 
sparkled night and day. So Bevis came into the palace where 
Brademond sat at a banquet with twenty kings, and gave the 
letter into his hands, charging him straightly to obey King 
Ermyn’s commands. When Brademond had read it, he said to 
the kings which sate at meat with him, ‘ This is Sir Bevis who 
made me vassal to his master : rise up therefore and greet him as 
is seemly.’ And when they had arisen, Brademond took Bevis by 
both hands as though to welcome him, but in truth to hold him 
fast so that he should not draw his sword, and then cried to the 
kings, ‘ Quick, fall on him, and get him down.’ So before Bevis 
knew of their treachery, they bore him to the pavement, and 
having bound him fast they cast him into a loathesome dungeon 
deep down underground, and full of noisome reptiles. There 
they loaded him with chains, and gave him bread and water for 
food. The snakes and serpcuits would soon have been his death, 
but that he found a broken staff in his dungeon, wherewith, 
chained as he was, he slew them. For seven years Bevis 


148 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

remained a captive in this dark and dreadful prison-li.mse, till 
his beard grew to his feet, and he lost the look of human kind. 

Meanwhile, Josian, who mourned the sudden departure of her 
lover from Ermony, was told by her father that Bevis had returned 
to England to marry a wife of great estate. Yet did this true 
maid refuse to believe that Bevis had forsaken her, being sure in 
her mind that some secret treason was at work to keep him from 
her. Then came Ynor, King of Mombraunt, to seek her hand in 
marriage, and her father urged his suit; but Josian hated Ynor, 
loving Bevis only in her heart. Nevertheless, after two years’ delay. 
King Ermyn insisted that she should wed at once with Ynor, and 
her tears and prayers being of no avail, she was married to him, 
and the wedding feast was held in Ermyn’s palace. Now Josian 
had a ring of curious make (her mother gave it to her, and she 
got it from Merlin), and in this ring was a certain stone of such 
rare virtue that no man might have power upon the maid which 
wore it, save she willed. King Ynor rode off with his bride to 
Mombraunt, and men led Arundel beside him by the bridle-rein. 
But as he drew near home, Ynor thought to mount his horse and 
ride him in sight of Josian. No sooner did Arundel find a 
strange rider on his back instead of his own dear master, than he 
shook himself and tossedjiis head, and with a sudden quiver at 
his flanks, set off, swift as the wind, past city, over plain, 
through wood and field and river, over dyke and fence, and 
at the last threw Ynor down, and trampled the life near out of him, 
so that for a whole year thereafter Ynor lay sick and like to die. 
But Arundel with a mighty neigh of triumph cantered off to his 
stable at Mombraunt, where for five full years no man dared 
approach him, he was so fierce, and they had to lower his corn 
and water down by a rope from overhead. 

Now after seven years. Sir Bevis in his dungeon on a day thus 
made his prayer aloud : ‘ 0 Heavenly King, which dwellest in 
the light, have pity on me buried here in this dark hole beneath 
the ground, knowing not night from day, and bring me out to 
see Thy sunshine once again, else shorten suddenly my days and 
let me die.’ His jailors hearing him complain, bade him be quiet, 
for it was night, and they Tvould sleep ; and when he would not, 
but so much the more called out upon his God, one of them let 
himself down by a rope into the dungeon with a lamp and sword, 
and sought to strike him. But Bevis lifted his two chained 
hands and at one blow brake the man’s skull. Then he cried to the 
jailor’s fellow above, ‘ Come down quickly, for this man has a tit 
here the foul air.’ So the other came down by the rope. 


Bcvis of Hamtoun, g 49 

and Bevis slew him also. His jailors being dead, he had no longer 
any food, and so for three days could do nothing but cry mightily 
to God : and on the third day, Jesus of his mercy brake his fetters 
and he stood up free, and joyfully gave thanks. Then climbing 
by the rope whereby the jailors had come down, Bevis reached 
the surface of the earth at midnight. He went into the castle, 
and the knights that guarded it being fast asleep, he took a spear 
and sword and coat of mail, then chose the best horse in the 
castle stable, saddled him and rode out to the castle gate. 
‘ Awake ! ’ he cried, to the porter, ‘ down with the drawbridge 
quickly, for Bevis has escaped and I am sent to take him.’ So 
the sleepy porter let him pass, and Bevis rode five miles across the 
plain, till, stiff and sore with long captivity, he lay down on the 
grass to rest. 

Early in the morning Bevis was missed at Damascus, and a 
great host of knights went out to search for him. Foremost of 
all came Sir Grander on a very fleet and famous horse called 
Trinchesis, for which he had paid its weight in silver. He far 
outrode the others and came upon Sir Bevis alone. But after a 
long battle Bevis, weak though he was with his long fasting, 
overcame Sir Grander and having cut off his head, leaped upon 
Trinchesis just as the rest of the Saracen knights came within 
sight, and rode until he came down to a rocky strand and saw 
the wild sea breaking on the beach. There, at his wit’s end, with 
the sea before him and an army of pursuers behind, Sir Bevis 
lifted up his heart to Christ. ‘ 0 most sweet Jesu, Shepherd of 
the earth, within whose fold are all Thy works, it is a little thing 
for Thee, who makest creatures go upon the air and in the sea with 
wings and fins, to help me now.’ So saying he leapt his horse 
into the brine and the waves upbore him bravely, and Trinchesis 
swam the whole day and half the night, and at length brought 
Bevis safe to land. 

Almost starved with hunger Bevis went straight to the first 
castle he saw to ask a meal. But a giant lived there, brother to 
Sir Grander, who seeing a knight ride on his brother’s steed 
Trinchesis, at once did battle with him, wounding Bevis on the 
shoulder with a javelin and killing Trinchesis with his club. 
Howbeit Sir Bevis brought the giant to his knees and smote his 
sword into his neck. Then, entering the castle, he appeased his 
hunger with a plentiful banquet which was in waiting for the 
dead giant, and having taken a horse from the giant’s stable, rode 
off refreshed and strengthened. He soon met a knight from 
Ermony who told him all that had befallen Josian, how she was 


150 Popjdar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

King Ynor’s wife and Queen of Mombraunt, and how Arnndel 
had served King Ynor ‘ Would to God/ said Bevis, ‘ thaf Josian 
were as true to me ^ Arundel! ’ and so.rode off to Mombraunt 
On his way, meeting a palmer he changed clothes with him 
and gave the palmer his horse, thmicing in this disguise more 
TOrtaiidy to learn about Josian. There were many palmers about 
King Ynor’s castle-gate, and Bevis being dressed as one of them 

asKed what they did. They answered: ‘ The queen is o-ond to 
palmers and gives them audience and entertainrnent every dav at 

turret above the sound of weeping and comnl-iinr < n rr • 

Kt iw ““ i pi™ Wmi 

.h„ itins 

others were gone away the queen said, ‘ Palmer in ah vo r 

fehhlfhome nlmTArmidd seven’*'^ “1 

sent me to travel and seek it. I am toU tr ,-T'f • 

«• —i v«» 0.. h. c, £i”irA:" i'zt'bis 

the seven-fold chain that bound him tore down iT ’ t m • . 

his hoofs, and leaping into the 00 ™™^ cam^ and a 

neck in pride beneath his master’s hand and d^r ^'^'^hed his 

Then he stood stUl nor moved a foot whl 

and liridled him and moimted on Ms bS'" Then 

also that it was Sir Bevis, and wept for joy, cryM^ '¥ake^"noT 

B*fvi“re"d’ ‘ Tl^lifst b^’‘ f ^ f-thMUo”:.- 

fit that a aSian ^n|h s 10 ^ d t:k?frwy"^\‘\'"’ 

maiden ’ But Josian sMd,^ lake 

my maids who have not left me since my marrhee'dat ^ “ 

I was wife to Ynor save in name Tf if n/ ^ 

with falsehood and turn me out upon the waste "to die’’ 


Bev'^ of Hamtoim, 151 

Just tlicn Bouiface warned Sir Bevis that King Ynor was come 
back from hunting with a great retinue. So Boniface made Sir 
Bevis lead Arundel back to the stable and then go and place himself 
again at the castle gate in his palmer’s weeds to wait for the king, 
and Boniface told him what to say. 

So when the king, riding up to his gate, saw a palmer there, 
he asked what tidings there might be from foreign countries. 
Then said the palmer, ‘ I have travelled far in Tyre and Egypt 
and in Sicily, and been through many lands. And there is peace 
on all hands, sire, save where Syrak wars with Bradwin King of 
Dabilent and presses him hard within his last redoubt, a castle 
on a clilf, the which he cannot hold for many days.’ 

‘ Bradwin King of Dabilent is my own brother,’ said Ynor, 

* and I must go and succour him.’ So he gathered together his 
army and his knights and straightway set off for Dabilent. 

As soon as the king was fairly gone, Bevis threw off his 
palmer’s dress, and having armed himself in mail and girded 
Morglay once more at his side, mounted his good ^ steed Arundel 
and set off at night with Josian on her palfrey, Boniface also 
going with them, to make the best speed they could out of Mom- 
braunt. And by journeying through forests and by-ways they 
managed to avoid pursuit, until, nightfall coming on, the queen 
took refuge in a rocky cave with Boniface for her protector, 
whilst Bevis -went in search of food. But this cave was a lion’s 
den, and soon the lions came home and quickly overmatched 
Boniface, whom they struck down, tore to pieces, and devoured. 
Yet after this the lions came to Josian and laid their heads down 
in her lap; for there is no ravenous beast will harm a maiden. 
Thus when Sir Bevis returned with some venison and saw the 
lions nestled against Josian he knew that she had spoken truth 
and had been true to him, and this made him so glad and valiant 
that he set upon the lions and cut off both their heads at one 
stroke of his sword Morglay,- and so avenged the death of 
Boniface. 

Next morning as they went on their way they fell in with a , 
huge and mighty giant thirty feet in height, whose countenance 
was fierce and terrible. His eyebrows were a foot apart, his lips 
hung like a mastiff’s from his great grim mouth, his body was 
bristled like a boar’s, and he bare for a club the knotty trunk of 
an oak-tree. And this giant said his name was Ascapard, and 
that he came out from Mombraunt to bring back Josian. 

Then Sir Bevis dressed his shield and rode furiously against 
the giant, and being more agile and nimble in his strokes 


152 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

wounded him many times and yet avoided all the giant’s blows, 
And as Sir Bevis galloped by after driving his lance to thh head 
in Ascapard’s shoulder, the giant turned after him in the retreat 
with such a swinging stroke of his club, that, missing his aim, he 
was brought to ground with the force of it;—so Bevis leaped off 
his horse and was about to cut off the giant’s head, when Josian 
interceded for him, saying, ‘ Spare his life, dear lord Sir Bevis— 
for since Boniface is dead we have no page; take him therefore 
for your squire and I will be bond for his faithfulness.’ Then 
Ascapard sware homage and fealty to Bevis and Josian and 
became their squire. 

Presently the three came to the sea-coast where was a vessel 
full of Saracens who refused to take Bevis on board. But Asca¬ 
pard waded into the water, and having turned them all out of the 
ship, carried Bevis and Josian on board on their horses, one undei 
each arm, and then drew up the heavy sail and steered the great 
paddle with one hand till he brought them safely to the harbour 
of Cologne. There Bevis found out Bishop Florentine, brother 
to Saber in the Isle of Wight, who made great joy at his arrival, 
and christened Josian at her wish in holy church. The good man 
would have christened Ascapard likewise and had a wine tun 
brought on purpose, but the giant leaped out again, saying it was 
only deep enough to christen half of him, and that he was of too 
ungodly size ever to make a Christian. 

Now there was in a forest near Cologne a foul and fearsome 
dragon which killed much people. Whole companies of men that 
went against him were destroyed by the venom which this mon¬ 
ster sweltered forth, so that it was said none but Saint Michael 
himself could contend against him. His front was hard as steel, 
eight tusks stood out from his mouth and he was maned like a 
steed. He was four-and-twenty feet from his shoulder to his tail, 
and his tail was sixteen feet long. His body was covered with 
scales hard as adamant, and his wings glistened like glass. The 
way in which the dragon came to Cologne was on this wise. 
Two kings fought in Cola and Calabria four-and-twenty years, 
and laid all the country waste, so that neither corn nor reapers 
were left in the land; nor would they ever make peace between 
themselves. And when these died in mortal sin they were still 
such fierce enemies that the Devil feared to have them in the 
fiery pit; so they became two fearful dragons which still ravaged 
Cola and Calabria till a holy hermit prayed both day and night 
to Christ to drive the dragons out and give the people peace. 
Then the dragons cook their flight. One fled to Eome, but wax- 


Bevis of Hamtoun, 153 

ing sick and helpless, as he hovered over the city, from the 
prayers which go up thence, fell into the river, where he still 
abides. Ihe other lied through Tuscany and Provence to 
Cologne. 

Then Sir Bevis determining to rid the country of this dreadful 
pest Ascapard said he would gladly go too, and all the way spake 
of what he would do to the dragon with his club so soon as they 
should hap upon him. Yet no sooner did this great giant hear 
the dragon roar like thunder in his den than he trembled and 
shook, and ran away as fast as he could into Cologne. Bub 
Bevis, with lion-like courage, rode against the dragon alone. All 
day long and through the night the champion fought, and often¬ 
times the dragon got him down, lashed him with his tail, and 
spouted rankling venom on him, or with his claws tare the good 
knighPs shield and brake his armour. Bevis would have died 
from the poison of his wounds, but by good fortune there was 
hard by a Holy Well, blessed by a wandering virgin saint for 
cure of mortal sickness. Therein the dragon hurled him with a 
blow of his tail, so Bevis was made whole, and drinking of the 
water was refreshed, and assailed the dragon with such new 
vigour that he made the monster flee. But Bevis followed him 
and hacked his tail till the dragon turned on him again, and then 
he cut the apple of his throat in twain, whereon the dragon lay 
upon his side roaring mightily till Bevis, with three great strokes 
of Morglay, smote him to the heart. It took four-score blows 
and more to cut the dragon’s head off. But Sir Bevis carved out 
the tongue, which was as much as he could carry on the truncheon 
of his spear, and set off to Cologne, where he found the people all 
at mass singing his dirge, for since he had been two days gone 
they gave him up for dead. 

After this Bevis took ship for England to avenge his father’s 
death upon Divoun, Emperor of Almaine. Bishop Florentine 
gave him a hundred knights to go with him, whilst Josian re¬ 
mained at Cologne in charge of Ascapard. Sir Bevis, having 
cast anchor within a mile of South Hamtoun, went on shore to 
Divoun’s castle, and gave his name as Sir Gerard, a French 
knight, saying he had come over with a hundred companions in 
quest of service. Divoun said he should be very glad of their 
service, since he had an enemy named Saber dwelling in a castle 
in the Isle of Wight, who continually annoyed him by sending 
to claim the heritage of a young scapegrace named Bevis, an idle 
spendthrift, whose inheritance he had bought, whilst the good- 
for-nothing pickthank had squandered the money and gone 


154 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

abroad. Bevis answered that he saw there was good cause for a 
quarrel, and therefore would willingly undertake it, provided 
Divoun would furnish his men with horses and armour, victual 
his ship, and send a hundred knights to go with him. ‘ Indeed,’ 
said Bevis, ‘we will promise not to lose sight of Saber till 
we have settled your quarrel.’ Divoun readily agreed to these 
terms. 

Now the ship being stored with provisions, and the horses and 
armour taken on board, Divoun’s hundred knights set off to 
embark with Bevis and his company, going two and two, one of 
Bevis’s men with one of Divoun’s. But when they reached the 
ship’s side each one of Bevis’s men took his fellow and cast him 
overboard. Then they sailed off merrily with their shipload of 
the enemy’s goods to Saber in the Wight. Saber welcomed 
Bevis with right goodwill, and at once began to prepare for 
battle. But Bevis sent a knight to Divoun with this message, 

‘I, that called myself Gerard, am no French knight, but Sir 
Bevis, Earl of South Hanitoun, and I claim my lands and 
heritage of thee, Divoun, and will wreak my father’s murder on 
thy head.’ Divoun was so angry at these words that he snatched 
the great knife from the banquet table and flung it at the ^ 
messenger—him it passed by, but it smote Divoun’s only son 
through the body that he died. 

But while these things happened in England, Josian was in 
sore trouble at Cologne. For a certain earl Sir Milo plotted 
how he might carry her off, and since he could do nothing against 
her whilst Ascapard was by, he got a letter writ as though from 
Bevis, charging Ascapard to come quickly to liis help, whereby 
the giant was beguiled to accompany some false messengers to a 
castle on an island far away, where they locked him in and left 
him. Then Sir Milo with a band of knights carried Josian off 
to his fortress, yet not before she had secretly sent a messenger 
to Sir Bevis to come to her aid. Howbeit, no sooner was 
Josian alone in a chamber with Sir Milo than she bespake him 
gently, and lulled him on her lap the while she made a slip-knot 
in her girdle. Therewith she strangled him and hanged him to 
the curtain rail. But Milo’s knights, when late next day they 
found that the earl did not arise, brake down the chamber door, 
and seeing what was done, dragged Josian off into the market¬ 
place, tied her to a stake, and heaping faggots round about made 
a great fire, while she could only weep and pray in wanhope of 
ever seeing her dear lord again. But suddenly came galloping 
up on Arundel that good knight Sir Bevis. Right blithely 


155 


Bevis of Hamtoiin, 

Amiidel leaped through the fire, while Bevis cut the bonds that 
fastened his dear wife, and set her free. Then turning on the 
multitude in a fury that was terrible, Sir Bevis hewed them down 
with IMortglay as a woodcutter lops the green wood, whilst 
Ascapard, having broken out from the castle and swum to shore, 
came striding up in the midst of the fray, and he with his club 
and Bevis with his sword swept all the market-place till not 
another man remained to be slain. Then Bevis sailed again for 
Wight with Ascapard and Josian. 

The Emperor of Almaine came and besieged Saber and Bevis in 
their castle in the Wight, his wife’s father, the King of Scotland, 
also bringing his host to help him, with catapults and mangonels 
and arbalests. And when the stones and iron darts of these 
great engines shook the castle walls and bid fair to make a 
breach. Saber said to Bevis, ‘ We will divide bur knights into 
companies, and make three sallies. I will head the first, you 
lead the second, and Ascapard shall bring out the third. Truly 
this host at present is too big to be fought with until we thin 
them down to fairer odds.’ 

Then Saber rode out and bore down first Sir Maurice of 
Mountclere, and afterward made great havoc of the enemy, for 
despite his age and his white hairs he was a brave and valiant 
man. Next, Bevis with his company came forth, but he would 
fight with none save Divoun, and cutting his way to where he 
was he bore him from his horse with a mighty shock, and would 
have smitten off his head with Morglay; but the host, ten 
thousand strong, closed round him, and having dragged the 
emperor from beneath his hand, beset him and his knights so 
furiously they were hard put to it for their lives. But Ascapard, 
with his ragly club, came beating down horse and man on all 
sides, and so cleared a passage for his company through the host 
to come and rescue Bevis, and there was no armour that could 
stand against Ascapard’s great tree-trunk. lie smote the King of 
Scotland dead at a blow, and this was the only time he killed but 
one man at a stroke, for he swung his club round in a sweep full 
sixty feet and mowed down everything within it, knight and 
steed alike. Then Bevis said to his squire: ‘Mark well the 
Emperor Divoun,—him that rides yonder on the white horse. 
Take him alive and I shall well reward you.’ Thereupon Ascapard 
strode through the host, and lifting Divoun out from his saddle 
carried him bodily into the castle. Meantime Sir Bevis and 
Saber fought the discomfited host till they scarce left a soul alive 
to tell the tale of that defeat. After this they returned to the 


156 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

castle and threw Divoim into a cauldron of boiling pitch and 
brimstone; and Divoiin’s wife, hearing of her husband’s shameful 
death, cast herself down headlong from her castle tower and 
brake her neck. 

Then Sir Bevis went to Hamtoun and took possession of his 
heritage, and made a great feast in Hamtoun Castle, whereat all 
tlie lords of the shire came and did him homage as the rightful Earl 
of Hamtoun, their true ruler. And from that time he displayed 
upon his shield the three roses of Hamtoun in place of the 
five silver sables. After this Sir Bevis went to London to King 
Edgar and paid.his fealty. And Edgar made him marshal of his 
army. And about Whitsuntide when a great race was run before 
the king for a thousand pieces of gold. Sir Bevis came on 
Arundel, late to the course, long after the rest had started; but 
he shook the bridle loose, saying, ‘ Speed thee, Arundel, and win 
the prize, and I will rear a lordly castle to thy praise,’ and 
Arundel, for his master’s sake, urged to the utmost, put forth all 
his strength, and sped past all the rest and won the race. AVith 
the treasure Bevis, in honour of his noble steed, built Arundel 
Castle, which stands unto this day. But the king’s son coveted 
the horse, and after vainly teasing Bevis to give it him, came one 
night to the stable where Arundel was, to steal him away; but 
Arundel with one hind hoof dashed out his brains. Wherefore, 
for this. King Edgar would have had the horse slain, only Sir 
Bevis, rather than lose his faithful steed, chose to leave the 
country; so having made Terry, Saber’s son, his squire, he again 
took ship with Josian and sailed for Ermony. 

Now Ascapard was a poor man and gat but little reward of 
Bevis. He was also jealous that Terry should be made squire in 
his stead. Wherefore when Bevis was gone he set off to King 
Ynor at Mombraunt, and said, ‘ Make me a prince and ruler in 
your country, and I will slay Bevis and deliver Josian into your 
hand.’ Ynor, very glad to think of getting back his queen again, 
agreed joyfully, and gave him forty knights clad in iron mail; 
for the giant said plainly that he would not undertake the matter 
by himself. 

Now Sir Bevis and Terry rode with Josian through a lonely 
forest in Normandy; and in this forest, while they were gone for 
a little while, she gave birth to two boys, and almost directly 
afterwards Ascapard and his forty Saracens came and carried her 
off. Bevis on his return was so much overcome by grief when 
he could not find his wife, that he swooned away. On his 
recovery he took the two babes, and dividing with his sword 


Bevis of Hamtoun, 157 

Josian’s ermine mantle whereon they lay, wrapped them in it, and 
rode on till he met a forester, to whom he gave ten marks to 
bring up one of the children and call it Guy. Shortly meeting a 
fisher, he gave him the other child and ten marks, after christen¬ 
ing the boy Miles over against the church stile, before the handle 
of his sword for crucifix. 

But Josian was carried off to King Ynor, who, when he saw 
her, marvelled greatly, saying, ‘ This is not Josian that was my 
queen’—for she had eaten secretly of a certain herb whereby her 
countenance was changed into loathliness. So he said, ‘ Take her 
away, for I cannot abide so foul a visaged dame.’ And he made 
Ascapard take her to a castle on a plain five miles away, where 
Josian dwelt for half-a-year alone with Ascapard for warder. 

Now Saber had a dream in his castle in the Wight. He 
dreamed he saw Sir Bevis wounded to the heart, and waking, 
asked his wife to read the dream. Then said she, ‘ How should 
Sir Bevis seem stricken to the heart save he had lost his wife or 
child ? ’ Saber therefore chose twelve trusty and valiant men, 
and having armed them well in mail of proof and clad them over 
all in palmer’s weeds, took ship and sailed through the Greek Sea 
till he came by good fortune to the very land where Josian was 
held in captivity by Ascapard. And the lady looked out from 
her tower and besought his help. So Saber called the giant out 
to fight. Now Saber and his men, having seen Ascapard in battle, 
knew well how to assail him. So they ran close in upon the 
giant where he could not use his club upon them, and hewed ofi 
his feet until they brought him down and slew him with their 
swords. Nevertheless Ascapard, after he was on the ground, slew 
all the men that went with Saber, so that he alone escaped. 
Thus Saber brought Josian out of her captivity in the castle, and 
she made a cunning ointment which brought back her beauty, and 
having dressed herself in poor attire, set out on foot with Saber 
to seek Bevis. But Saber, being old, fell sick in Greece, and for 
a year lay ill upon his bed, whilst Josian tended him and earned 
the food for both by singing and playing on a cittern, for she was 
skilled in minstrelsy. 

Sir Bevis meantime came to a country where a great tourna 
ment was held for the hand of a princess, the king’s daughter, 
and this he won for knighthood’s sake, and after him Terry was 
the most valiant knight. But the princess fell in love with Bevis, 
until, hearing he was already wed, she prayed him oo be her 
bachelor for seven years, then if his wife returned she would wed 
Terry; if uot, she would take Bevis for her husband. So Bevis 


158 Popula 7 ^ Romances of the Middle Ages, 

dwelt in a castle in that country and fought the battles of the 
king, and Terry was made steward of the realm. 

After seven years’ wanderings Saber- and Josian came into 
the land where Bevis was; and footsore and weary Saber left her 
at an inn while he went to the castle to beg a bit of bread. Terry 
came down to the castle gate but did not know his father in his 
beggar’s dress, all travel-worn, and very greatly aged by sickness. 
But Saber knew his son. ‘ Good steward,’ said he, ‘ for love of 
the dear Eood, give me a little piece of bread.’ ‘ Aye, palmer,’ 
answered Terry, ‘ that I will, for my dear father’s sake, who may 
be wandering as you are now. I know not where he is. ^ Pray 
God be kind to him.’ ‘ Son,’ Saber said, ‘ thy father it is. that 
blesses thee. Son Terry, my dear son.’ Then Terry knew him, 
and reverently kissed his long white beard, and brought him in 
and served him joyfully and humbly at the table. As for Josian, 
she was clothed in fair apparel, and brought to Sir Bevis decked 
as a queen ; nor were ever lovers more glad to be wed than were 
these two to meet again. And while they smiled and wept for 
joy together, the fisher and the forester came in and brought her 
children, hale, comely boys, who rode in mimic jousts to show their 
mother how strong they were. So the princess, the lady of the 
tournament which Bevis won, wedded with Terry. And all made ^ 
great joy, for it would be hard to say which was the happier, 
Terry with his fair new bride and his father restored to him, or 
Bevis at finding his dearly-loved Josian again ; yet do they say, 
that love grows riper after age and storm, like old wine that has 
passed the seas. 

Soon afterwards Sir Bevis went with his retinue of knights to 
Ermony. King Ynor, hearing this, gathered together the greatest 
army he could muster, and came against him to demand Josian 
his queen. But after a parley they agreed to determine the 
matter by single combat, the victor to be king both of Ermony and 
Mombraunt. 

They fought on an island in view of both armies, where none 
could interfere. From prime till undern the air resounded with 
the ringing of their armour and the clashing of their swords. At 
high noon Ynor hewed off crest and circle and the visor bars from 
Sir Bevis’s helmet; furious whereat Sir Bevis cleft King Ynor’s 
shoulder half a foot through mail and breast-plate, forcing him to 
ground upon his knee; then, mad to see his blood upon the sword 
blade of his enemy, Ynor started up, and rushing on Bevis like a 
lion, clave his shield in two and raised his right arm for a fearful 
stroke, which Bevis, shieldless, could not ward; but he, wielding 


Bevis of Hamtoun, 159 

]\rorglay in both hands, lopped off the arm before it could 'deal 
the blow, so it fell helpless to the earth, with fingers still clenched 
on the weapon. Then Bevis threw him to the ground, unlaced 
the Paynim’s helm and smote his head off. The Saracens, seeing 
their champion fallen, took flight; but Bevis, with his sons Sir 
Miles and Guy, and Saber and Terry with King Ermyn’s army, 
pursued and slew great numbers in the way, until they came to 
Mombraunt. There Sir Bevis was crowned king and Josian for 
the second time made queen of that city. 

But there came messengers from England with tidings how 
King Edgar had taken the estates both of Bevis and Saber, and 
bestowed them on Sir Bryant of Cornwall, his steward. Where¬ 
fore, Bevis sailed for Hamtoun with a great array of knights, and 
men-at-arms, and marched to Potenhithe, where he encamped. 
Then with twelve knights he came to the king at Westminster 
and asked that his estates might be restored. King Edgar, who 
dreaded nothing so much as war, consented; so Bevis went away 
with his knights to a tavern in London City to refresh himself. 
Yet no sooner was he gone than the steward, to whom the lands 
and castles had been given, reminded the king how Bevis was an 
outlaw, and how his horse Arundel had killed the prince. So it 
befell that proclamation was made in London to close the city 
gates, and stretch chains across all narrow streets, while all good 
citizens were called upon to arm themselves and take the outlaw 
alive or dead. 

Now when Sir Bevis in the tavern found himself beset, he 
armed himself, girt on Morglay, and having mounted Arundel, 
rode out with his knights into the crowd, and first seeing Sir 
Bryant the king’s steward urging on the people, he spurred against 
him, and with his lance bore down the backbiter dead upon the 
roadway. But the street was narrow, and Bevis, being beleaguered 
by a very great armed multitude, turned his horse down God’s 
Lane, thinking to come out in Chepe, where he would have more 
space to fight. Now this lane was so narrow that he could not 
turn his horse therein, and when he came down to the end he 
found huge chains across which barred his way, whilst all the 
crowd swarmed in and quickly chained up the other end, so there 
was no escape. Thus were they caught in a trap, and the people 
with their swords, and stones, and bludgeons, slew all his twelve 
knights; and Bevis was hard put to it to hold his life but for a 
short space longer, since he could not turn, nor scarcely swing his 
sword within that narrow lane. Almost despairing, he prayed 
Christ to bring him out of this great peril so he might see his wife 


16o Popular Rofnances of the Middle Ages, 

and children once again. Then with Morglay he smote the chains 
and they fell in pieces on the pavement, so he came out in Chepe, 
the people shouting after him, ‘ Yield thee, Sir Bevis, yield thee, 
for we shall quickly have thee down.’ But he answered proudly, 

‘ Yea, I yield to God that sits above in Trinity, but to none else.’ 

New crowds poured into Chepe on all hands, and with pikes and 
javelins assailed this valiant knight through half the day; yet 
none could take him, for Arundel fought with a leal heart, and 
cleared the ground for forty foot to front and rear with his hoofs, 
the while his master cut down men on either hand far quicker 
than a parson and his clerk could shrive. By eventide he slew 
five thousand of the folk, until his arm waxed weary and he faint 
for need of food and parched with thirst. Then came a Lombard 
with a heavy mansel and smote him on the helm a blow that 
nearly stunned him, so that Sir Bevis leaned forward on his saddle¬ 
bow and seemed like to fall. Just then a cry was made, for lo. 
Sir Guy and Sir Miles with all their army, having burned the city 
gates, came riding into Chepe. Sir Guy cut down the Lombard, 
whilst Sir Bevis, gaining fresh nerve and vigour from this welcome 
succour, turned again and headed his army in battle against the 
Londoners, fighting far on into the night, until the Thames ran 
red with blood past Westminster, and sixty thousand Londoners 
were slain. Thus Sir Bevis took the city, and brought Josian to 
the Leden Hall, where they held feasting fourteen nights, keeping 
open court for all folk that would come. 

Then King Edgar, earnestly desiring peace, made a treaty with 
Sir Bevis, and gave his only daughter to Sir Miles to be his wife ; 
and these were wed at Nottingham amid great rejoicing as at the 
crowning of a king. 

Sir Bevis then gave his earldom of South Hamtoun to Saber, 
and came by ship with Guy and Terry to Ermony. King Ermyn, 
being very old and near to death, took the crown from off his 
head and placed it on Sir Guy’s. So leaving his son King of 
Ermony, Sir Bevis made lerry King of Ambersh, and then 
returned with Josian his queen to his own kingdom of Mom- 
braunt. There they dwelt together in love for three-and thirty 
years, and made all the land Christian. 

Now at the last Josian the queen fell sick of a mortal sickness, 
and knowing her end was near, she sent for Sir Guy to bid him 
farewell. And while she talked alone with her son, Bevis walked 
sorrowing about the castle till he came to the stable where 
Arundel was kept. There going in, he stroked and smoothed his 
old and faithful steed, and Arundel arched himself for the last 


Bevis of Hamtoun. 161 

time beneath his master’s hand, then looked up in his face and fell 
down dead. Then with a heavy heart Sir Bevis came back again 
to the chamber where Josian lay a-dying, and falling down beside 
her, took her in his arms and held her to him till she died ; and 
before her body had grown cold, his soul went to her. So they 
passed together from the noise of the world and were nevermore 
divided. 

But Sir Guy would not in anywise suffer them to be buried in 
the earth; wherefore he reared a noble church to Saint Lawrence, 
and made therein a fair chapel of white marble adorned with 
heraldry and carven work, all pictured with great deeds of knight¬ 
hood for the Holy Cross and faithful love of wedded folk. There 
he made the bier, of marble and of gold, beneath a golden canopy, 
high-cornered, wrought with curious device, and laid them there: 
and built withal a house where pious monks sang masses morn 
and eve for the rest of good Sir Bevis and fair Josian. God’s 
pity on their souls! Aye, and also upon Arundel, if indeed it be 
not unlawful to pray for a horse more hiithful than most men, and 
truer than most friends. 


of ®3rtoicfe. 


Of all the nobles of Britain none was so strong as Eohand, Earl 
of Warwick, Rockingham, and Oxford. He made just laws, and 
made them be obeyed ; nor king nor baron in the land could buy 
his favour with fine words or gold, or shield the wrong-doer from 
his punishment. Passing fair was Felice, his daughter, like some 
stately marble shaft of perfect mould; haughty was she as the 
great gerfalcon which spurns the earth and towers up into the 
noon to look the burning sun in the face. Wise masters, hoar 
with learning, came out from Thoulouse to teach her the seven 
arts and sciences, until there was not her like for wisdom 
anjrwhere. 

Earl Rohand had a favourite page, named Guy, son of his just 
and upright steward, Segard of Wallingford : a brave and fearless 
youth, of strong and well-knit frame, whom Heraud of Ardenne, 
his tutor, taught betimes to joust with lance and sword, and how 
to hunt with hawk and hound by wood and river side. 

It was the feast of Pentecost, when by old custom every 
maiden chose her love and every knight his leman. Guy, clad in 
a new silken dress, being made cup-bearer at the banquet table, 
saw for the first time the beautiful Felice, as kneeling, he offered 
the golden ewer and basin and damask napkin to wash her finger¬ 
tips before the banquet. Thenceforward he became so love- 
stricken with her beauty that he heard not the music of the glee- 
men, saw neither games nor tourneys, but dured in a dream, 
like one crazed, all through the fourteen days festival. Knights 
and fair dames praised his handsome figure and well-grown 
sinewy limbs; he heeded not—but once Felice gave him a 
courteous word as he offered her the wine-cup; he blushed and 
stammered and spilled the wine, and was rebuked for awkwardness. 

The feast being over, Guy went away to his chamber, and there 
fell into a great love-sickness. Hopeless it seemed for a vassal to 
love one so far above him as his sovereign’s daughter; so he gave 
himself up to despair, and his disease grew so sore that the most 
skilful leeches of Earl Rohand’s court were unable to cure hia 


Guy of Warwick. 163 

complaint. In vain they let him of blood or gave him salve or 
potion. There is no medicine of any avail/ the leeches said. 
Guy murmured, ‘Felice: if one might find and bring Felice to 
me, I yet might live.^ ‘Felice]’ the leeches said among them¬ 
selves, and shook their heads, ‘ it is not in the herbal. Felice ] 
Felix ] No, there is no plant of that name.’ 

‘No herb is Felice,’ sighing answered Guy, ‘but a flower—the 
fairest flower.’ 

‘He is light-headed,’ they said. ‘The flower Felice] He 
seeks perchance the flower of happiness, growing in the garden of 
the blessed, away in Paradise. He is surely near his end.’ 

‘ It is truly Paradise where Felice is,’ Guy answered. 

‘You hear? You see]’ the leeches whispered one to another. 
‘ Come, let us go; for we can be of no more good.’ 

Night came, and being left alone Guy thought to rise up from 
his bed and drag himself into the presence of his mistress, there 
to die at her feet. So weak was he become, he scarce could 
stand, but fainted many times upon the way. 

Now Felice had heard many whisperings how Guy was dying 
for love of her, since her handmaidens had compassion on the 
youth, and sought to turn her heart towards him; but Felice was 
in no mind to have a page for a lover. Howbeit on this very 
night she had a dream, wherein being straitly enjoined to entreat 
the youth with kindness as the only way to save a life which 
would hereafter be of great service to the world, she arose and 
came to a bower in the garden where Guy lay swooning on the 
floor. Felice would not stoop to help him, but her maids having 
restored him to his senses, Guy fell at her feet and poured out 
all his love before her. Never a word answered Felice, but 
stood calmly regarding him with haughty coldness. Then 
said one of her maids, ‘ 0 lady ! were I the richest king’s 
daughter in the land, I could not turn away from love so strong 
and true.’ Felice rebuked her, saying, ‘ Could not ] Silly child, 
see that your soft heart do not prove your shame.’ So with a ting¬ 
ling cheek the maid withdrew abashed. Then said Felice to Guy, 

‘ Why kneel there weeping like a girl ] Get up, and show if there 
is the making of a man in you. Hear what I have to say. The 
swan mates not with the swallow, and I will never wed beneath 
me. Prove that your love is not presumption. Show yourself 
my peer. For I could love a brave and valiant knight before 
whose spear men bowed as to a king, nor would I ask his 
parentage, prouder far to know that my children took their 
nobleness from a self-made nobleman. But a weeping, love-sick 


1 64 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

page! Ko! Go, fight and battle—show me something that you 
d<; that I can love. Meantime I look for such a lover, and I care 
not if his name be Guy the page.’ 

Then Guy took heart and said, ‘ Lady, I ask no better boon 
tlian to have you for witness of what love for you can do.’ 

Felice answered, ‘ Deeds, not words. Be strong and valiant, 
i will watch and I will wait.’ 

Then Guy took leave of his mistress and in the course of a few 
days regained his health, to the surprise of all the court, but more 
especially of the leeches who had given him over for dead, and 
coming to Earl Eohand, intreated him to make him a knight. 
To this Earl Eohand having agreed, Guy was knighted at the 
next feast of Holy Trinity with a dubbing worthy a king’s son; 
and they brought him rich armour, and a good sword and spear 
and shield, and a noble steed with costly trappings, together with 
rich silken cloaks and mantles fur-trimmed, and of great price. 
Then bidding farewell to Segard his father. Sir Guy left -Warwick 
with Heraud his tutor, and Sir Thorold and Sir Urry for company, 
and having reached the nearest seaport, set sail for Hormandy in 
search of adventures wherein to prove his valour. 

They came to Eouen, and whilst they tarried at an inn a 
tournament was proclaimed in honour of the fair Blancheflor, 
daughter to Eegnier, Emperor of Germany, and the prize was the 
hand of the princess, a white horse, two white hounds, and a 
white falcon. So Sir Guy and his companions rode into the lists, 
where was a great company of proven knights and champions. 
Three days they tourneyed, but none could withstand Sir Guy’s 
strong arm. He overthrew Otho Duke of Pavia, Sir Garie the 
Emperor’s son, Eeignier Duke of Sessoyne, the Duke of Lowayne, 
and many more, till not a man was left who dared encounter him; 
and being master of the field, he was adjudged the prize. The 
horse and hounds and falcon he sent by two messengers to Felice 
in England as trophies of his valour. Then he knelt before the 
beautiful princess Blancheflor and said, ^Lady, I battle in honour 
of iny mistress, the peerless Felice, and am her servant,’ whereat 
the emperor and his daughter, admiring his constancy, loaded 
him with rich presents and allowed him to depart. 

Sir Guy then travelled through Spain, Lombardy, and Almayne, 
into far lands ; and wheresoever a tournament was held, there he 
went and jousted, coming out victor from them all; till the fame 
of his exploits spread over Christendom. So a year passed, and 
he returned to England unconquered, and renowned as the most 
valianl knight of his time. A while he sojourned in London 


Gtiy of Warwick, 165 

with King Athelstan, who rejoiced to do him honour: then he 
came to Warwick, where he received from Earl Rohaud a princely 
welcome. Then Sir Guy hastened to Felice. 

‘Fair mistress,’ said he, ‘have I now won your love ? You 
have heard my deeds, how I have travelled all through Christen¬ 
dom, and have yet found no man stand against my spear. I have 
been faithful in my love, Felice, as well as strong in fight. I 
might have wedded with the best. Kings’ daughters and 
princesses were prizes in the tournaments; but I had no mind 
for any prize but thee. Say, is it mine, sweet mistress 1 ’ 

Then Felice kissed her knight and answered, ‘Right nobly 
have you won my love and worship, brave Sir Guy. You are 
more than my peer; you are become my sovereign; and my love 
pays willing homage to its lord. But for this same cause I will 
not wed you yet. I will not have men point at me and say, 
“There is a woman who, for selfish love’s sake, wedded the 
knight of most renown in Christendom ere yet he did his bravest 
deeds—drew him from his level to her own—made him lay by 
his sword and spear for the slothful pleasures of a wedded life, 
and dwarfed a brave man down to a soft gentleman.” Nay, dear 
one, I can wait, and very proudly, knowing myself your chiefest 
prize. But seek not to possess the prize too soon, lest your 
strivings for renown, being aimless, should wax feeble. It is 
because I love you that I hold your fame far dearer than my love. 
Go rather forth again, travel through heathen lands, defend the 
weak against the strong; go, battle for the right, show yourself 
the matchless knight you are; and God and my love go with 
thee.’ 

Then Sir Guy gat him ready for his new quest. Earl Rohand 
tried to persuade him to remain at home, as likewise did his 
father Segard; and his mother, weeping, prayed him stay. She 
said, ‘ Another year it may not fare so well with thee, my son. 
Leave well alone. Felice is cold and proud, and cares not for 
thee, else she would not risk thy life again. What is it to her 1 
If thou wert slain she would get another lover; we have no more 
sons.’ 

Yet would not Sir Guy be turned from his purpose, but 
embarked with his companions. Sir Heraud, Sir Thorcld, and 
Sir Urry, for Flanders. Thence he rode through Spain, Germany, 
and Lombardy, and bore away the prize at every tournament. 
But coming into Italy, he got a bad wound jousting at Beneven- 
tum, which greatly weakened him. 

Duke Otho of Pavia, whom Sir Guy overthrew in his first 


166 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

tournament at Eouen, tliought now to be avenged on him. So 
he set a chosen knight, Earl Lombard, with fifteen other knights, 
to lie in ambush in a wood and slay Sir Guy; and as Sir Guy, 
with his three companions, came ambling slowly through the 
wood, he smarting and well-nigh faint with his wound, the men 
in ambush broke out from their concealment and called on him 
to yield. The danger made him forget his pain, and straightway 
he dressed his shield and spurred among them. 

Sir Heraud, Sir Thorold, and Sir Urry killed the three first 
knights they rode against. Then Earl Lombard slew Sir Urry; 
and at the same time Hugo, nephew to Duke Otho, laid Sir 
Thorold dead at his horse’s feet. Then only Sir Guy and Sir 
Heraud being left to fight, Sir Guy attacked Earl Lombard and 
smote him to the heart, wLilst Sir Heraud chased Hugo, fleeing 
like a hound, and drave his spear throughout Jiis body. Thus 
were Sir Urry and Sir Thorold avenged. But one of the felon 
knights, called Sir Gunter, smote Sir Heraud a mighty stroke 
when he was off his guard, and hewed his shield and coat of mail 
in pieces, and Sir Heraud fell to the earth covered with blood 
and lay as dead. 

Thereupon Sir Guy’s anger waxed furious at his master’s death; 
and he spurred his horse so that fire rose from under its feet, 
and with one blow of his sword cleft Sir Gunter from his helmet 
to the pummel of his saddle. As for the other knights he slew 
them all except Sir Guichard, who fled on his swift steed to Pavia, 
and got back to Duke Otho. 

Heavily Sir Guy grieved for the loss of his three friends, but 
most of all for his dear master, Sir Heraud. He sought about 
the wood until he found a hermit. To him he gave a good steed, 
charging him to bury the bodies of Sir Urry and Sir Thorold. 
From Sir Heraud’s body he would not part. Lifting the old 
knight in his arms, he laid him across his horse, and led the steed 
by the bridle-rein till they came to an abbey, where he left the 
body with the abbot, promising rich presents in return for giving 
it sumptuous burial with masses and chants. But Sir Guy de¬ 
parted and hid himself in a hermit’s cave away from the malice 
of Duke Otho, until his wound should be healed. 

Now there was in the abbey whither Heraud’s body was taken, 
a monk well skilled in leech-craft, who knew the virtues of all 
manner of grasses and herbs. And this monk, finding by his 
craft that life still flickered in the body, nursed and tended it; 
and after a long while Sir Heraud was well enough to travel. 
Disguised as a palmer he came into Burgundy, and there, to his 


Gity of Warwick. 167 

great joy, found Sir Guy, who had come thither meaning to take 
his way back to England. But they lingered still, till Heraud 
should grow stronger, and so it fell out that they came to St 
Omers. There they heard how the Emperor Regnier had come 
up against Segwin, Duke of Lavayne, laid waste his land, and 
besieged him in his strong city Seysone, because he had slain 
Sacloc, the emperor’s cousin, in a tournament. But when Sir 
Guy learned that Sadoc had first provoked Duke Segwin, and 
brought his death upon . himself, he determined to help Segwin 
against his sovereign the Emperor Regnier. He therefore gathered 
fifty knights together with Heraud, and coming secretly at night 
to the city of ^ysone, was let in at a postern gate without the 
enemy being aware. In the morning after mass they made a 
sally against their foes, which numbered thirty thousand strong, 
and routed them, taking many noble prisoners. Three times the 
emperor came against the Greeks, each time with a new army 
larger than before. Twice did Sir Guy vanquish the host, and 
drive them from the walls. The third time he took Sir Gaire, 
the emperor’s son, prisoner, and carried him into the city. Then 
the Emperor Regnier determined, since he could not take the 
place by assault, to beleaguer it, and starve the town into 
surrender. And it was so that, while his army was set down 
before the walls, the emperor hunted alone in a wood hard by, 
and Sir Guy, meeting him there, gathered a branch of olive tree, 
and came bending to the emperor, saying, ‘ God save you, gentle 
sire. Duke Segwin sendeth me to make his peace with you. He 
will yield you all his lands and castles in burg and city, and hold 
them of you henceforth in vassalage, but he now would have your 
presence in the city to a feast.’ So the emperor was forced to go 
with him into the city as a prisoner, albeit he was served with 
the humility due to a sovereign both by Sir Guy and Duke 
Segwin’s knights. Sir Gaire and the other captive nobles canie 
also and prayed for peace with Duke Segwin, for they had been 
so well treated that they felt nothing but the truest friendship 
for their captor. So it befell when the emperor found himself 
feasting in the enemy’s castle, surrounded by the flower of his 
own knights and nobles, and Duke Segwin and his band serving 
them humbly at table as though they had been servants in place 
of masters, he was touched % their generosity, and willingly 
agreed to a free and friendly peace. And this was celebrated by 
the emperor giving Duke Segwin his niece to wife, whilst the 
Duke of Saxony wedded Duke Segwin’s sister amid great re¬ 
joicings. 


168 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Now after this, learning that Ernis, Emperor of Greece, waa 
besieged in Constantinople his capital by the Saracens, Sir Guy 
levied an army of a thousand knights and went to his assistance. 
Well pleased was Ernis at so timely a succour, and he promised 
to reward Sir Guy by making him heir to the throne and giving 
him the hand of his oidy daughter the beautiful Loret. Then 
Sir Guy led the army forth from the city against the Soudan and 
his host, and defeated them so badly that for some days they were 
unable to rally their men for another encounter. 

In the meantime one of Sir Guy’s knights named Sir Morga- 
dour fell in love with the Princess Loret, and being envious of 
Sir Guy’s achievements as well as jealous of such a rival, he 
sought how to embroil him with the emperor and compass his 
disgrace. Wherefore one day when the Emperor Ernis was gone 
a-rivering with his hawks. Sir Morgadour challenged Sir Guy to 
play a game of chess in the Princess Loret’s chamber. They played 
there. Sir Guy not thinking of treachery. But by-and-% the 
princess entered, and Sir Morgadour after greeting her took his 
leave quickly and came to the Emperor Ernis, telling him how 
Sir Guy was alone in the chamber with his daughter. Ernis, 
however, paid little heed to the tale, for he said—‘Well, and 
what of it 1 Loret is his promised bride, and Sir Guy is a j^ood 
true knight. Away with your tales ! ’ But Sir Morgadour was 
not to be baffled, so he went to Sir Guy, and said—‘ Behold how 
little trust is to be placed in a king ! Here is the Emperor Ernis 
mad wroth to hear you were alone with the Princess Loret, and 
swears he will have j^our life.’ Then Sir Guy in great anger 
summoned his knights, and was going over to the Saracens, when, 
on his way, he met the emperor, who told him of the malice of Sir 
Morgadour and all was made plain. 

But now the Saracens coming anew against the city. Sir Guy 
went forth to meet them with many engines upon wheels which 
threw great stones quarried from a hill. Sir Guy and his army 
again defeated the Saracens, insomuch that a space of fifteen acres 
was covered so thick with dead that a man might not Avalk 
between, whilst the pile of slain around Sir Guy reached breast 
high. So the Soudan and his host withdrew to their camps. 

Then Sir Morgadour bethought him of another wile. The 
Soudan had sworn to kill every Christian found in his camp, 
without regard to flag of truce or ambassage. So Sir Morgadour 
persuaded Ernis to send Sir Guy to the Soudan saying, that, since 
the war seemed likely to come to no speedy issue, it should be 
settled by single combat between two champions chosen from the 


Guy of Wa'Twick, 169 

Christian and the Saracen hosts. The counsel seemed good to 
Eriiis, but yet he liked not to risk his son-in-law’s life; where¬ 
fore he called his Parliament together and asked for some bold 
knight to go and bear this message. When all the others held 
their peace, Sir Guy demanded to be sent upon the business, 
neither could the prayers and entreaties of Ernis cause him to 
forego the enterprise. He clad himself in iron hose and a trusty 
hauberk, set a helm of steel, gold-circled, on his head, and having 
girt his sword about him, leapt on his steed without so much as 
touching stirrup, and rode up to the Soudan’s pavilion. He well 
knew it from the rest, since on the top thereof flashed a great 
carbuncle stone. 

There were feasting the Soudan, ten kings, and many barons, 
when Sir Guy walked into the pavilion and delivered his message 
with great roughness of speech. * Seize him and slay him ! ’ cried 
the Soudan. But Sir Guy cut his way through his assailants and 
rushing on the Soudan cut off his head; and while he stooped 
to pick up the trophy with his left hand, with his right he slew 
six Saracens, then fought his passage past them all to the tent 
door, and leapt upon his horse. But the whole Saracen host 
being roused he never would have got back for all his bravery, 
but that Heraud within the city saw in a dream the danger he 
was in, and assembling the Greek army and Sir Guy’s knights, 
came to his rescue and put the Saracens to flight. Then after the 
battle Sir Guy came in triumph to Constantinople and laid the 
Soudan’s head at the feet of the Emperor Ernis. 

Ernis, now being at peace from his enemies, would take Sir 
Guy through his realms. On their way they saw a dragon fight¬ 
ing with a lion, and the lion having much the worst of the 
combat. Sir Guy must needs go and fight the dragon. After a 
hard battle he laid the monster dead at his feet, and the lion 
came and licked the hands of his deliverer, and would in no wise 
depart from his side. 

Soon afterwards the Emperor Ernis gathered a great company 
of princes, dukes, earls, barons, bishops, abbots, and priors to the 
wedding feast, and in presence of them all he gave Sir Guy to be 
ruler over half the kingdom, and led forth the Princess Loret to 
be his bride. 

But when Sir Guy saw the wedding-ring, his old love came to 
his mind, and he bethought him of Felice. ‘Alas!’ he cried, 
‘Felice the bright and beautiful, my heart misgives me of for¬ 
getting thee. None other maid shall ever have my love.’ Then 
lie fell into a swoon, and when he came to himself he pleaded 


170 Popular Rofjlances of the Middle Ages. 

sudden sickness. So the marriage was put off, to the great dis* 
tress of Eriiis and his daughter Loret, and Sir Guy gat him to an 
inn. Heraud tended him there, and learned how it was for the 
sake of Felice that Guy renounced so fair a bride, dowered wdth 
so rich a kingdom. But after a fortnight, when he could no 
longer feign illness because of the watchfulness of the emperor 
and the princess after his health, he was forced to return to court, 
and delay his marriage from day to day by one excuse and 
another, until at length fortune delivered him from the strait. 
The lion which Sir Guy had tamed was used to roam about the 
palace, and grew so gentle that none feared him and none sought 
him harm. But Sir Morgadour, being sore vexed to think that all 
his plans against Sir Guy had failed, determined to wreak his spite 
upon the lion. He therefore watched until he found the lion asleep 
within an arbour, and then wounded him to death with his sword. 
The faithful beast dragged himself so far as Sir Guy’s chamber, 
licked his master’s hands, and fell dead at his feet-. But a little 
maid which had espied Sir Morgadour told Sir Guy who had 
slain his lion. Then Sir Guy w^ent forth in quest of Sir Morga¬ 
dour, and fought with him and slew him. He had forgiven the 
wrongs against himself, since he outwitted them; but he was 
fain to avenge his faithful favourite. Now Sir Morgadour was 
steward to the German Emperor E-egnier. So Sir Guy showed 
Ernis that if he remained longer at his court, Eegnier would 
surely make war on Greece to avenge his steward’s death. Where¬ 
fore with this excuse he took his departure and set sail with 
Heraud in the first ship he could find. They landed in Germany, 
and visited the Emperor Eegnier without telling anything about 
his steward’s death. Then they came to Lorraine. 

As Sir Guy took his way alone through a forest, having sent 
his servants on to prepare a place for him at an inn, he heard the 
groaning of a man in pain, and turning his horse that way, found 
a knight sore wounded, and like to die. This knight was named 
Sir Thierry, and served the Duke of Lorraine. He told how he 
was riding through the wood with his lady, Osile, when fifteen 
armed men beset him, and forcibly carried off the lady to take her 
to Duke Otho of Pavia, his rival. Then said Sir Guy, ‘ I also 
have a score to settle with Otho, the felon duke.’ Then he took 
Sir Thierry’s arms and armour, and went in pursuit of the 
ravishers, whom he soon overtook, and having slain every one, 
he set the lady on his steed and returned to the place where he 
had left the wounded knight. But now Sir Thierry was gone ; for 
four knights of Duke Otho’s band had come and carried him off. 


Guy of Warwick. 171 

So Sir Gny set down the lady, and started to find the four 
knights. Having fought and vanquished them, he set Sir Thierry 
oil liis horse and returned. But now Osile was gone. He 
searched for many hours to find her, but in vain. So as nightfall 
drew on he took Sir Thierry to the inn. There by good fortune 
they found the lady. Sir Guy’s servants having met her in the 
wood and brought her with them to await his coming. A leech 
soon came and dressed Sir Thierry’s wounds, and by the careful 
tending of Osile and Sir Guy, he got well Then Sir Guy and 
Sir Thierry swore brotherhood in arms. 

Soon there came a messenger, saying that Duke Otho, hotly 
wroth at losing the fair Osile, had gone to lay waste the lands of 
Aubry, Sir Thierry’s father; the Duke of Lorraine was likewise 
helping him.. Thereupon Sir Guy equipped five hundred knights 
and came with Sir Thierry to the city of Gurmoise, where Aubry 
dwelt. It was a well ramparted city, and after being beaten in 
two battles with Sir Guy, Duke Otho found, despite the larger 
numbers of his host, that he could not stand against the courage 
of the little army and the valour of its leader. Thinking there¬ 
fore to gain Osile by treachery, he sent an archbishop to Aubry, 
offering peace, and pledging himself to confirm the marriage of 
Sir Thierry and Osile, provided only that the lovers would go and 
kneel in homage to their sovereign Duke of Lorraine. Thereon 
Sir Thierry and his bride, together with Sir Guy and Sir Heraud, 
set out unarmed, and after wending a day’s journey out of Gur¬ 
moise, they met the Duke of Lorraine, who embraced and kissed 
them in token of peace. But Otho coming forward as if to do 
the like, made a sign to a band of men whom he had in waiting 
to seize them. These quickly surrounded Sir Heraud and Sir 
Thierry and carried them off; but Sir Guy with only his fists 
slew many of his assailants, and broke away to where a country¬ 
man stood Avith a staff in his hand. Snatching this for a weapon. 
Sir Guy beat down the quickest of his pursuers, and made his 
escape. Duke Otho cast Sir Thierry into a deep dungeon in 
Pavia, and meanwhile gave Osile a respite of forty days wherein 
to consent to be his bride. But the Duke of Lorraine carried off 
Sir Heraud. 

Weary and hungered, and vexed at the loss of his friends, Sir 
Guy came to a castle where he sought harbour for the night. 
Sir Amys of the Mountain, Avho dwelt there, welcomed him with 
a good will, and hearing his adventures, offered to raise an army 
of fifteen hundred men to help him against Duke Otho. But to 
this Sir Guy said nay, because it would take too long. So, after 


172 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

a day or two, having hit upon a plan, he disguised himself by 
staining his face and darkening his hair and beard and eyebrows, 
and setting out alone, came to Duke Otho with a present of a 
war-horse of great price, and said, ‘You have in your keeping 
a dastard knight, by name Sir Thierry, who has done me much 
despite, and I would fain be avenged upon him/ Then Duke 
Otho, falling into the trap, appointed him jailer to Sir Thierry. 

The dungeon wherein Sir Thierry was prisoned was a pit of 
forty fathoms deep, and very soon Sir Guy spake from the pit’s 
mouth bidding him be of good cheer, for he would certainly 
deliver him. But a false Lombard overheard these words, and 
thereby knowing that it was Sir Guy, ran off straightway to tell 
Duke Otho. Sir Guy followed quickly and sought to bribe the 
man with money to hold his peace, but without avail, for he 
would go into the palace where the duke was, and opened his 
mouth to tell the tale. Then with one blow Sir Guy slew him 
at Duke Otho’s feet. But Otho, very wroth, would have killed 
Sir Guy then and there, only that he averred that this was a 
certain traitor whom he found carrying food to the prisoner. 
Thus having appeased the duke’s anger, he gat away secretly to 
Osile, and bade her change her manner to Duke Otho, and make 
as though she were willing to have his love. The night before 
the day fixed for the wedding, Sir Guy let down a ropey to 
Thierry in his pit, and having drawn him up, the two made all 
speed to the castle of Sir Amys. There, getting equipped with 
arms and armour, they leaped to horse on the morrow, and riding 
back to Pavia, met the wedding procession. Rushing into the 
midst Sir Guy slew Otho and Sir Thierry carried off Osile, 
whereupon they returned to Sir Amys with light hearts. And 
when the Duke of Lorraine had tidings of what had befallen 
Otho he had great fear of Sir Guy, and sent Sir Heraud back 
with costly gifts to make his peace. So Sir Thierry and Osile 
were wed, and a sumptuous banquet was held in their honour, 
with games, and hunting, and hawking, and jousting, and singing 
of glee-men, more than can be told. 

Now as Sir Guy went a-hunting one day, he rode away from 
his party to pursue a boar of great si'^e. And this boar, being 
very nimble and fleet of foot, led him a long chase till he came 
into Flanders. And when he killed the boar he blew upon his 
horn the prize. Florentine, King of Flanders, hearing it in his 
palace, said, ‘ Who is this that slays the tall game on my lands F 
And he bade his son go forth and bring him in. The young 
prince coming with a haughty message to Sir Guy, the knight 


^73 


Guy of Warwick, 

struck him with his hunting-horn, meaning no more than chas¬ 
tisement for his discourtesy. But by misadventure the prince 
fell dead at his feet. Thinking no more of the mishap, and 
knowing not who it was whom he had slain. Sir Guy rode on to 
the palace, and was received with good cheer at the king’s table. 
But presently the prince’s body being brought in, and Guy 
owning that he had done this deed. King Florentine took up an 
axe, and aimed a mighty blow at the slayer of his son. This Sir 
Guy quickly avoided, and when all arose to seize him, he smote 
them down on either hand, and fought his way through the hall 
till he reached his steed, whereon lightly leaping he hasted back 
to Sir Thierry. 

Then after a short while he took leave of Sir Thierry, and came 
with Sir Heraud to England, to the court of King Athelstan at 
York. Scarce had he arrived there when tidings came that a 
great black and winged dragon was ravaging Northumberland, 
and had destroyed whole troops of men which went against him. 
Sir Guy at once armed himself in his best proven armour, and 
rode off in quest of the monster. He battled with the dragon 
from prime till undern, and on from undern until evensong, but for 
all the dragon was so strong and his hide so flinty Sir Guy over¬ 
came him, and thrust his sword down the dragon’s throat, and 
having cut off his head brought it to King Athelstan. Then 
while all England rang with this great exploit, he took his jour¬ 
ney to Wallingford to see his parents. But they were dead; so 
after grieving many days for them he gave his inheritance to Sir 
Heraud, and hasted to Felice at Warwick. 

Proudly she welcomed her true knight, and listened to the 
story of his deeds. Then laughingly Sir Guy asked, should he 
go another quest before they two were wed 1 

‘ Nay, dear one,’ said Felice, ^ my heart misgives me I was 
wrong to peril your life so long for fame’s sake and my pride in 
you. A great love-longing I have borne to have you home beside 
me. But now you shall go no more forth. My pride it was that 
made me wish you great and famous, and for that I bade you go ; 
but now, beside your greatness and your fame, I am become so 
little and so unworthy that I grow jealous lest you seek a wor¬ 
thier mate. We will not part again, dear lord Sir Guy.’ Then 
he kissed her tenderly and said, ‘ Felice, whatever of fame and 
renown I may have gained, I owe it all to you. It was won for 
you, and but for you it had not been—and so I lay it at your 
feet in loving homage, owning that I hold it all of you.’ 

So they were wed amid the joy of all the town of Warwick; 


r 74 Popular Romances of the Middle Aj^es. 

for the spousings were of right royal sort, and Earl Eohand held 
a great tournament, and kept open court to all Warwick, Rock¬ 
ingham, and Oxford for fourteen days. 

Forty days they had been wed, when it happened that as Sir 
Guy lay by a window of his tower, looking out * upon the land¬ 
scape, he fell to musing on his life. He thought, ‘ How many 
men I have slain, how many battles I have fought, how many 
lands I have taken and destroyed! All for a woman’s love ; and 
not one single deed done for my God!’ Then he thought, ‘I 
would fain go a pilgrimage for the sake of Holy Cross.’ And 
when Felice knew what he meditated she wept, and with many 
bitter tears besought him not to leave her. But he sighed and 
said, ‘Not yet one single deed for God above 1’ and held fast to 
his intent. So he clad himself in palmer’s dress, and having 
taken a gold ring from his wife’s hand and placed it upon his 
own, he set out without any companion for the Holy Land. 

But Felice fell into a great wan-hope at his departure, and 
grieved continually, neither would be comforted; for she said, 
‘ I have brought this on myself by sending him such perilous 
journeys heretofore, and now I cannot bear to part from him.’ 
But that she bore his child she would have taken her own life for 
very trouble of heart: only for that child’s sake she was fain to 
live and nurture it when it should be born. 

Now after Sir Guy had made his toilsome pilgrimage to Jeru¬ 
salem, and shrived him of his life, and done his prayers and 
penances about the holy places, he took his way to Antioch. 

Beside a well he met a certain Earl Jonas, whose fifteen sons 
were held in prison till he should find a champion to deliver the 
Saracen Sir Triamour from the hands of a fierce and terrible 
Ethiopian giant named Amiraunt. So Sir Guy took arms again, 
and rode into the lists, and fought with Amiraunt and slew him ; 
thus both Sir Triamour was delivered from his enemy, and the 
sons of Earl Jonas were restored to him. After this. Sir Guy 
travelled many years as a pilgrim of the Cross, till in his wander¬ 
ings, chancing to come into Almayne, he there fell in with Sir 
Thierry, who, dressed in palmer’s weeds, made sorry complaint. 
Sir Thierry told how a knight named Barnard inherited Pavia in 
the room of his cousin Duke Otho; and how Barnard, being at 
enmity with him because of the slaying of Duke Otho, had never 
rested from doing him mischief with his sovereign, until the Duke 
of Lorraine dispossessed him from his lands and brought him 
into poverty. Howbeit Sir Guy would not reveal himself, and 
Sir Thierry being faint and weary, laid his head upon Sir Guy’g 


Guy of Warwick, 175 

knees, and so great a heaviness came over him that he fell asleep. 
As he slept, Sir Guy, watching him, saw a small white weasel 
creep out from the mouth of the sleeping man, and run to a little 
rivulet that was hard by, going to and fro beside the bank, not 
seeming wistful how to get across. Then Sir Guy rose gently 
and laid his sword athwart the stream from bank to bank; so 
the weasel passed over the sword, as it had been a bridge, and 
having made his way to a hole at the foot of the hill on the other 
side, went in thereat. But presently the weasel came out, and 
crossing the stream in the same manner as before jumped into 
the sleeper’s mouth again. Then Str Thierry woke and told his 
dream. ‘I dreamed,’ said he, ‘that I came beside a mighty 
torrent which I knew not how to pass, until I found a bridge of 
shining steel, over which I went, and came into a cavern under¬ 
ground, and therein I found a palace full of gold and jew'els. I 
pray thee, brother palmer, read to me this dream.’ 

Then Sir Guy said that without doubt it betokened a fair 
treasure hid by a waterside, and with that showed him the hole 
under the hill whereat he had seen the weasel go in. There they 
digged and found the treasure, which was very great; yet Sir 
Guy would have no share therein, but took leave of Sir Thierry 
without ever making himself known, and came to Lorraine to the 
duke that was Sir Thierry’s sovereign. 

Seeing a palmer, the Duke of Lorraine asked tidings of his 
travels. ‘ Sir,’ said the palmer, ‘ men in all lands speak of Sir 
Thierry, and much do blame you for taking away his heritage at 
the bidding of so false a knight as Sir Barnard. And palmer 
though I be, I yet will prove Sir Barnard recreant and traitor 
upon his body, and thereto I cast down my glove.’ Then Sir 
Barnard took up the glove, and Sir Guy being furnished with 
armour and a sword and shield and spear, they did battle together. 
And in the end Sir Guy overcame and slew Sir Barnard, and 
demanded of the duke to restore Sir Thierry to his possessions, 
which being granted, he went in search of the banished man, and 
having found him in a church making his prayer, brought him 
straightway to the duke, and thus they were made friends. And 
when Sir Thierry found who his deliverer was he was exceeding 
glad and would willingly have divided all his inheritance with him. 
But Sir Guy would receive neither fee nor reward, and after he 
had abode some time with him at the court, he took his way to 
England. 

Now Athelstan was besieged in Winchester by Anlaf King of 
Denmark, and could not come out of the city for the great host 


176 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

that was arrayed against him, whilst all the folk within the city 
walls were famishing for want of food and thought of nothing 
hut surrender. Moreover King Anlaf had proclaimed a challenge, 
giving them seven days’ grace wherein either to deliver up the 
city keys, or to find a champion who should fight against the 
great and terrible Danish giant Colbrand; and every day for 
seven days the giant came before the walls and cried for a man 
to fight with him. Eut there was found no man so hardy as to 
do battle with Colbrand. Then King Athelstan, as he walked to 
and fro in his city and saw the distress of his people, was suddenly 
aware of a light that shone about him very brightly, and he heard 
a voice which charged him to intrust his cause to the first poor 
palmer he should meet. Soon after he met a palmer in the city^ 
and weening not that it was Sir Guy, kneeled humbly to him, in 
sure faith in the heavenly voice, and asked his help. ‘ I am an 
old man,’ said the palmer, ‘with little strength except what 
Heaven might give me for a people’s need b^eset by enemies. 
But yet for England’s sake and with Heaven s help I will under¬ 
take this battle.’ 

They then clothed him in the richest armour that the city 
could furnish, with a good hauberk of steel, and a helmet whose 
gold circle sparkled with precious stones, and on the top whereof 
stood a flower wrought of divers colours in rare gems. Gloves of 
mail he wore, and greaves upon his legs, and a shirt of ring-mail 
upon his body, with a quilted gambeson beneath : sharp was the 
sword, and richly carved the heavy spear he bare ; his threefold 
shield was overlaid with gold. They led forth to him a swift 
steed ; but before he mounted he went down upon his knees and 
meekly told his beads, praying God to succour him that day. 
And the two kings held a parley for an hour, Anlaf promising on 
his part that if his champion fell he would go back with all his 
host to Denmark and nevermore make war on Britain, whilst 
Athelstan agreed, if his knight were vanquished, to make Anlaf 
King of England, and henceforth to be his vassal and pay tribute 
both of gold and silver money. 

Then Colbrand strode forth to the battle. So great was he of 
stature that no horse could bear him, nor indeed could any man 
make a cart wherein to carry him. He was armed with black 
armour of so great weight that a score of men could scarce bear 
up his hauberk only, and it took three to carry his helm. He 
bare a great dart within his hand, and slung around his body 
were swords and battle-axes more than two hundred in number. 

Sir Guy rode boldl}^ at him, but his s])ear shivered into pieces 


177 


Guy of Warwick. 

against the giant’s armour. Then Colbrand threw three darts. 
The first two passed wide, but the third crashed through Sir 
Guy’s shield, and glided betwixt his arm and side, nor tell to the 
ground till it had sped over a good acre of the field. Then a 
blow^ from the giant’s sword just missed the knight, but lighting 
on his saddle at the back of him hewed horse and saddle clean in 
two ; so Sir Guy was brought to ground. Yet lightly sprang he 
to his feet, and though seemingly but a child beside the monster 
man, he laid on hotly with his sword upon the giant’s armour, 
until the sword brake in his hands. Then Colbrand called on 
him to yield, since he had no longer a weapon wherewith to fight. 
‘Nay,’ answered Sir Guy, ‘but I will have one of thine,’ and 
with that ran deftly to the giant’s side and wrenched away a 
battle-axe wherewith he maintained the combat. Right well Sir 
Guy endured while Colbrand’s mighty strokes shattered his 
armour all about him, until his shield being broke in pieces it 
seemed he could no longer make defence, and the Danes raised a 
great shout at their champion’s triumph. Then Colbrand aimed 
a last stroke at the knight to lay him low, but Sir Guy lightly 
avoiding it, the giant’s sword smote into the earth a foot and more 
and before he could withdraw it or free^ his hand, Sir Guy hewed 
off the arm with his battle-axe; and since Colbraiid’s weight 
leaned on that arm, he fell to ground. So Sir Guy cut off his 
head, and triumphed over the giant Colbrand, and the Danes 
withdrew to their own country. 

Then without so much as telling who he was. Sir Guy doffed 
his armour and put on his palmer’s weeds again, and secretly 
withdrawing himself from all the feasts and games they held in 
honour of him in the city of Winchester, passed out alone and 
took his journey toward Warwick on foot. 

Many a year had gone since he had left his wife and home. 
The boy whom Felice had borne him, named Raynburn, he had 
never seen ; nor, as it befel, did he ever see his son. For Rayn- 
biirn in his childhood had been stolen away by Saracens and 
carried to a far heathen country, where King Aragus brought 
him up and made him first his page, then chamberlain, and as he 
grew to manhood, knighted him. And now he fought the battles 
of King Aragus with a strong arm like his father Guy’s, neither 
could any endure against his spear. But all these years Felice 
had passed in prayer and charity, entertaining pilgrims and tired 
wayfarers, and comforting the sick and the distressed. And it 
was so that Sir Guy, all travel-worn and with his pilgrim’s staff 
in hand, came to her house and craved an alms. She took him 

M 


[ 78 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

in and washed his feet and ministered to him, asking oftentimes 
if in his travels he had seen her lord Sir Guy. But when he 
watched her gentleness to the poor and to the children at her 
gate, he feared to break in upon her holy life, and so refrained 
himself before her and would not reveal himself, but with a 
heavy heart came out from the lady’s door and gat him to a 
hermit’s cell. There he abode in fasting and in penitence 
many weeks, till feeling his end draw near, he took the ring 
from his finger and sent it by a herdsman to Felice. ‘ Where 
got you this token?’ cried Felice, all trembling with her 
wonderment and fear. ‘ From a poor beggar-man that lives 
in yonder cell,’ the herdsman answered. ‘ From a beggar ? 
Nay, but from a kingly man,’ said Felice, ‘ for he is my 
husband, Guy of Warwick !’ and gave the herdsman a hundred 
marks. Then she hasted and came to Sir Guy in his hermit’s 
cell, and for a long space they wept in each other’s arms, and 
neither spake a word. 

Weaker and fainter waxed Sir Guy. In a little while he died, 
and Felice closed his tired eyes sleep-fast. Fifteen weary days 
she lingered sore in grief, and then God’s angel came and gently 
closed her own. 


^ a 13 e 1 0 h. 


There was once a king of England named Athelwold. Earl, 
baron,* tliane, knight, and bondsman, all loved him, for he set on 
high the wise and the just man, and put down the spoiler and 
the robber. At that time a man might carry gold about with 
him, as much as fifty pounds, and not fear loss. Chapmen and 
merchants bought and sold at their ease without danger of plunder. 
But it was bad for the evil person and for such as wrought shame, 
fur they had to lurk and hide away from the king’s wrath ; yet 
was it unavailing, for he searched out the evil-doer and punished 
him, wherever he might be. The fatherless and the widow found 
a sure friend in the king; he turned not away from the com¬ 
plaint of the helpless, but avenged them against the oppressor, 
were he never so strong. Kind was he to the poor, neither at 
any time thought he the fine bread upon his own table too 
good to give to the hungry. 

But a death-sickness fell on King Athelwold, and when he 
knew that his end was near he was greatly troubled, for he had 
one little daughter of tender age, named Goldborough, and he 
grieved to leave her. 

‘ 0 my little daughter, heir to all the land, yet so young thou 
can’st not walk upon it; so helpless that thou can’st not tell thy 
wants, and yet had need to give commandment like a queen ! 
For myself I would not care, being old and not afraid to die. 
But I had hoped to live till thou should’st be of age to wield the 
kingdom; to see thee ride on horseback through the land, and 
round about a thousand knights to do thy bidding. Alas, my 
little child, what will become of thee when I am gone V 

Then King Athelwold summoned his earls and barons, from 
Koxborough'to Dover, to come and take counsel with him as he 
lay a-dying on his bed at Winchester. And when they all wept 
sore at seeing the king so near his end, he said, ' Weep not, good 
friends, for since I am brought to death’s door your tears can in 
nowise deliver me; but rather give me your counsel. My little 
daughter that after me shall be your queen; tell me in whose 


i8o Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

charge I may safely leave both her and England till she be grown 
of age to rule % ’ 

And with one accord they answered him, ‘ In the charge of 
Earl Godrich of Cornwall, for he is a right wise and a just man, 
and held in fear of all the land. Let him be ruler till our queen 
be grown.’ 

Then the king sent for a fair linen cloth, and thereon having 
laid the mass book and the chalice and the paton, he made Earl 
Godrich swear upon the holy bread and wine to be a true and 
faithful guardian of his child, without blame or reproach, tenderly 
to intreat her, and justly to govern the realm till she should be 
twenty winters old ; then to seek out the best, the bravest, and 
the strongest man as husband for her and deliver up the kingdom 
to her hand. And when Earl Godrich had so sworn, the king 
shrived him clean of all his sins. Then having received his Sa¬ 
viour he folded his hands, saying, * Domine, in inanus tuas and 
so died. 

There was sorrow and mourning among all the people for the 
death of good King Athelwold. Many the mass that was sung 
for him and the psalter that was said for his soul’s rest. The bells 
tolled and the priests sang, and the people wept: and they gave 
him a kingly burial. 

Then Earl Godrich began to govern the kingdom ; and all the 
nobles and all the churls, both free and thrall, came and did 
allegiance to him. He set in all the castles strong knights in 
whom he could trust, and appointed justices and sheriffs and 
peace-sergeants in all the shires. So he ruled the country with a 
firm hand, and not a single wight dare disobey his word, for all 
England feared him. Thus, as the years went on, the earl waxed 
wonderly strong and very rich. 

Goldborough the king’s daughter throve and grew up the fair¬ 
est woman in all the land ; and she was wise in all manner of 
wisdom that is good and to be desired. But when the time drew 
on that Earl Godrich should give up the kingdom to her, he be¬ 
gan to think within himself—‘ Shall I, that have ruled so long, 
give up the kingdom to a girl and let her be queen and lady over 
me? And to what end ? All these strong earls, and barons, 
governed by a weaker hand than mine, would throw off the yoke 
and split up England into little baronies, evermore fighting be¬ 
twixt themselves for mastery. There would cease to be a king¬ 
dom and so there would cease to be a queen. She cannot rule it 
and she shall not have it. Besides, I have a son. Him will I 
teach to rule and make him king.’ 


Havelok, 


i8i 


So the earl let his oath go for nothing, and went to Win¬ 
chester where the maiden was, and fetched her away and carried 
her off to Dover to a castle that is by the sea-shore. Therein 
he shut her up and dressed her in poor clothes, and fed her 
on scanty fare ; neither would he let any of her friends come 
near her. 

Now there was in Denmark a certain king called Birkabeyn, 
who had three children, tv'o daughters and a son. And Birk¬ 
abeyn fell sick, and knowing that death had stricken him, he 
called for Godard, whom he thought his truest friend, and said, 
‘ Godard, here I commend my children to thee. Care for them I 
pray thee, and bring them up as befits the children of a king. 
When the boy is grown and can bear a helm upon his head and 
wield a spear, I charge thee make him King of Denmark. Till 
then hold my estate and royalty in charge for him.’ And Godard 
swore to guard the children zealously, and to give up the king¬ 
dom to the boy. Then Birkabeyn died and was buried. But 
no sooner was the king laid in his grave than Godard despised 
his oath; for he took the children, Havelok, and his two little 
sisters, Swanborough and Helfled, and shut tliem up in a castle 
with barely clothes to cover them. And Havelok, the eldest, 
was scarce three years old. 

One day Godard came to see the children and found them all 
crying for hunger and cold; and he said angrily, ‘ How now ! 
What is all this crying about’ The boy Havelok answered him, 
‘ We are very hungry, for we get scarce anything to eat. Is 
there no more corn, that men cannot make bread and give us ? 
We are very hungry.’ But his little sisters only sate shivering 
with the cold, and sobbing, for they were too young to be able to 
speak. The cruel Godard cared not. He went to where the 
little girls sate, and drew his knife, and took them up one after 
another and cut their throats. Havelok, seeing this sorry sight, 
was terribly afraid, and fell down on his knees begging Godard 
to spare his life. So earnestly he pleaded that Godard was fain 
to listen : and listening he looked upon the knife, red with the 
children’s blood; and when he saw the still, dead faces of the 
little ones he had slain, and looked upon their brother’s tearful 
face praying for life, his cruel courage failed him quite. He laid 
down the knife. He would that Havelok were dead, but feared 
to slay him for the silence that would come. So the boy pleaded 
on ; and Godard stared at him as though his wits were gone \ then 
turned upon his heel and came out from the castle. ‘ Yet,’ he 
thought, ‘ if I should let him go, one day he may wreak me mis- 


182 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

chief and perchance seize the crown. But if he dies my children 
will be lords of Denmark after me.’ Then Godard sent for a 
fisherman whose name was Grim, and he said, ‘ Grim, thou wot- 
test well thou art my thrall. Do now my bidding and to-morrow 
I shall make thee free and give thee gold and land. Take this 
child with thee to-night when thou goest a-fishing, and at moon- 
rise cast him in the sea, with a good anchor fast about his neck 
to keep him down. To-day I am thy master and the sin is mine. 
To-morrow thou art free.’ 

Then Grim took up the child and bound him fast, and having 
thrust a gag of clouts into his mouth so that he could not speak, 
he put him in a bag and took him on his back and carried him 
home. When Grim got home his dame took the bag from off his 
shoulders and cast it down upon the ground within doors ; and 
Grim told her of his errand. Now as it drew to midnight he 
said, ‘ Eise up, dame, and blow up the fire to light a candle, and 
get me my clothes, for I must be stirring.’ But when the woman 
came into the room where Havelok lay she saw a bright light 
round the boy’s head, as it had been a sunbeam, and she called to 
her husband to come and see. And when he came they both 
marvelled at the light and what it might mean, for it was very 
bright and shining. Then they unbound Havelok and took away 
the gag, and turning down his shirt they found a king-mark fair 
and plain upon his right shoulder. ‘ God help us, dame,’ said 
Grim, ‘ but this is surely the heir of Denmark, son of Birkabeyn 
our king ! Aye, and he shall be king in spite of Godard.’ Then 
Grim fell down at the boy’s feet and did him obeisance, and said, 
‘ Forgive me, my king, for that I knew thee not. We are thy 
thralls, and henceforth will feed and clothe thee till thou art 
grown a man and can bear shield and spear. Then deal thou 
kindly by me and mine as I shall deal to thee. But fear not 
Godard. He shall never know, and I shall be a bondsman still, 
for I will never be free till thou, my king, shalt set me free.’ 

Then was Havelok very glad, and he sat up and begged for 
bread. And they hasted and fetched bread and cheese and butter 
and milk; and for very hunger the boy ate up the whole loaf, for 
he was well-nigh famished. And after he had eaten, Grim made 
a fair bed and undressed Havelok and laid him down to rest, 
saying, ‘ Sleep, my son; sleep fast and sound and have no care, 
for nought shall harm thee.’ 

On the morrow Grim went to Godard and telling him he had 
drowned the boy, asked for his reward. But Godard bade him 
go home and remain a thrall, and be thankful that he was not 


Havelok. 


183 

hanged for so wicked a deed. After a while Grim, beginning to 
fear that both himself and Havelok might be slain, sold all his 
goods, his corn, and cattle, and fowls, and made ready his little 
ship, tarring and pitching it till not a seam nor a crack could be 
found, and setting a good mast and sail therein. Then with his 
wife, his three sons, his two daughters, and Havelok, he entered 
into the ship and sailed away from Denmark ; and a strong north 
wind arose and drove the vessel to England, and carried it up the 
Humber so far as Lindesay, where it grounded on the sands. 
Grim got out of the boat with his wife and children and Have¬ 
lok, and then drew it ashore. 

On the shore he built a house of earth and dwelt therein, and 
from that time the place was called Grimsby, after Grim. 

Grim did not want for food, for he was a good fisherman both 
with net and hook, and he would go out in his boat and catch all 
manner of fish—sturgeons, turbot, salmon, cod, herrings, mac¬ 
kerel, flounders, plaice, lampreys, and thornback, and he never 
came home empty-handed. He had four panniers made for him 
self and his sons, and in these they used to carry the fish to 
Lincoln, to sell them, coming home laden with meat and meal, 
and simnel cakes, and hemp and rope to malce new nets and lines. 
Thus they lived for twelve years. But Havelok saw that Grim 
worked very hard, and being now grown a strong lad, he be¬ 
thought him ‘ I eat more than Grim and all his five children 
together, and yet do nothing to earn the bread. I will no longer 
be idle, for it is a shame for a man not to work.’ So he got 
Grim to let him have a pannier like the rest, and next day 
took out a great heaped basket of fish, and sold them well, bring¬ 
ing home silver money for them. After that he never stopped at 
home idle. But soon there arose a great dearth, and corn grew 
so dear that they could not take fish enough to buy bread for all. 
Then Havelok, since he needed so much to eat, determined that 
he would no longer be a burden to the fisherman. So Grim made 
him a coat of a piece of an old sail, and Havelok set off* to Lincoln 
barefoot to seek for work. 

It so befell that Earl Godrich’s cook, Bertram, wanted a scul¬ 
lion, and took Havelok into his service. There was plenty to eat 
and plenty to do. Havelok drew water and chopped wood, and 
brought turves to make fires, and carried heavy tubs and dishes, 
but was always merry and blythe. Little children loved to play 
with him ; and grown knights and nobles would stop to talk and 
laugh with him, although he wore nothing but rags of old saih 
cloth which scarcely covered his great limbs, and all mi 


j 84 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

how fair and strong a man God had made him. The cook liked 
llavelok so much that he bought him span-new clothes with shoes 
and hosen ; and when Havelok put them on, no man in the king¬ 
dom seemed his peer for strength and beauty. He was the tallest 
man in Lincoln, and the strongest in England. 

Earl Godrich assembled a Parliament in Lincoln, and after¬ 
ward held games. Strong men and youths came to try for 
mastery at the game of putting the stone. It was a mighty stone, 
the weight of an heifer. He was a stalwart man who could lift 
it to his knee, and few could stir it from the ground. So they 
strove together, and he who put the stone an inch further than 
the rest was to be made champion. But Havelok, though he had 
never seen the like before, took up the heavy stone, and put it 
full twelve foot beyond the rest, and after that none would con¬ 
tend with him. Now this matter being greatly talked about, it 
came to the ears of Earl Godrich, who bethought him—‘ Did not 
Atholwold bid me marry his daughter to the strongest man alive 1 
In truth I will marry her to this cook’s scullion. That will abase 
her pride ; and when she is wedded to a thrall she will be power¬ 
less to injure me. That will be better than shutting her up ; 
better than killing her.’ So he sent and brought Goldborough to 
Lincoln, and set the bells a-ringing, and pretended great py, for 
he said, ‘ Goldborough, 1 am going to spouse thee to the fairest 
and stalwartest man living.’ But Goldborough answered she 
would never wed with any but a king. ‘ Aye, aye, my girl; and 
so thou would’st be queen and lady over me 1 But thy father 
made me swear to give thee to the strongest man in England, 
and that is Havelok, the cook’s scullion; so lief or loth to-morrow 
thou shalt wed.’ Then the Earl sent for Havelok and said, 
‘ Master, wilt wive % ’ ‘ Not I,’ said Havelok—‘ for I cannot feed 

nor clothe a wife. I have neither stick nor stem—no house, no 
cloth, no victuals. The very clothes I wear do not belong to me, 
but to Bertram the cook, as I do.’ ‘ So much the better,’ said the 
earl, ‘ but thou shalt either wive with her that I shall bring thee, 
or else hang upon a tree. So choose.’ Then Havelok said he 
would sooner wive. Earl Godrich went back to Goldborough and 
threatened her with burning on a stake unless she yielded to his 
bidding. So, thinking it God’s will, the maid consented. And 
on the morrow they were wed by the Archbishop of York, who 
had come down to the Parliament, and the earl told money out 
upon the mass-book for her dower. 

Now after he was wed, Havelok wist not what to do, for he 
saw how greatly Earl Godrich hated him. He thought he would 


Havelok, 


go and see Grim. MHien he got to Grimsby he found that Grim 
was dead, but his children welcomed Havelok and begged him 
bring his wife thither, since they had gold and silver and cattle. 
And when Goldborough came, they made a feast, sparing neither 
flesh nor fowl, wine nor ale. And Grim’s sons and daughters 
Served Havelok and Goldborough. 

Sorrowfully Goldborough lay down at night, for her heart was 
heavy at thinking she had wedded a thrall. But as she fretted 
biie saw a light, very bright like a blaze of fire, which came out of 
Havelok’s mouth. And she thought ‘ Of a truth but he must be 
nobly born.’ Then she looked on his shoulder, and saw the king- 
mark, like a fair cross of red gold, and at the same time she 
heard an angel say, 

‘Goldborough, leave sorrowing, for Havelok is a king’s son, 
and shall be King of England and of Denmark, and thou queen.’ 

Then was Goldborough glad, and kissed Havelok, who, straight¬ 
way waking, said, ‘I have seen a strange dream. I dreamed I 
was on a high hill whence I could see all Denmark ; and I thought 
as I looked that it was all mine. Then I was taken up and 
carried over the salt sea to England, and methought I took all 
the country and shut it within my hand.’ And Goldborough 
said, ‘ What a good dream is this ! Eejoice, for it betokeneth 
That thou shalt be King of England and of Denmark. Take now 
my counsel and get Grim’s sons to go with thee to Denmark.’ 

In the morning Havelok went to the church and prayed God 
speed him in his undertaking. Then he came home and found 
Grim’s three sons just going off a-fishing. Their names were 
Kobert the Ked, William Wendut, and Hugh Kaven. He told 
them who he was, how Godard had slain his sisters, and delivered 
him over to Grim to be drowned, and how Grim had fled with 
him to England. Then Havelok asked them to go with him to 
Denmark, promising to make them rich men. To this they gladly 
agreed, and having got ready their ship and victualled it, they 
sSi sail wdth Havelok and his wife for Denmark. The place of 
their landing was hard by the castle of a Danish earl named 
Ubbe, who had been a faithful friend to King Birkabeyn. 
Havelok went to Earl Ubbe, with a gold ring for a present, 
asking leave to buy and sell goods from town to town in that 
cart of the country. Ubbe, beholding tlie tall, broad shouldered, 
thick-chested man, so strong and cleanly made, thought him more 
fit for a knight than for a pedlar. He bade Havelok bring his 
wife and come and eat with him at his table. So Havelok went 
to feten Goldborough, and Robert the Red and William Wendut 


186 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

led her between them till they came to the castle, where Ubbe, 
with a great company of knights, welcomed them gladly. Havelok 
stood a head taller than any of the knights, and when they sat 
at table Ubbe’s wife ate with him, and Goldborough A^ith Ubbe. 
It was a great feast, and after the feast Ubbe sent Havelok and 
his friends to Bernard Brown, bidding him take care of them till 
next day. So Bernard received the guests and gave them a rich 
supper. 

Now in the night there came sixty-one thieves to Bernard’s 
house. Each had a drawn sword and a long knife, and they 
called to Bernard to undo the door. He started up and armed 
himself, and told them to go away. But the thieves defied him, 
and with a great boulder-stone brake down the door. Then 
Havelok, hearing the din, rose up, and seizing the bar of the 
door stood on the threshold and threw the door wide open, saying, 

‘ Come in, I am ready for you ! ’ First came three against him 
with their swords, but Havelok slew these with the door bar at 
a single blow; the fourth man’s crown he brake; he smote the 
fifth upon the shoulders, the sixth athwart the neck, and the 
seventh on the breast; so they fell dead. Then the rest drew 
back and began to fling their swords like darts at Havelok till 
they had wounded him in twenty places. For all that, ip a little 
while he killed a score of the thieves. Then Hugh Eaven waking 
up called Eobert and William Wendut. One seized a staff, each 
of the others a piece of timber big as his thigh, and Bernard his 
axe, and all three ran out to help Havelok. So well Havelok 
and his fellows laid about them, breaking ribs and arms and 
shanks, and cracking crowns, that not a thief of all the sixty-one 
was left alive. Next morning when Ubbe rode past and saw the 
sixty-one dead bodies, and heard what Havelok had done, he 
sent and brought both him and Goldborough to his own castle, 
and fetched a leech to tend his wounds, and would not hear of 
his going away. For, said he, ‘ This man is better than a thousand 
knights.’ 

Now that same night, after he had gone to bed, Ubbe awoke 
about midnight and saw a great light shining from the chamber 
where Havelok and Goldborough lay. He went softly to the 
door and peeped in to see what it meant. They were lying fast 
asleep and the light was streaming from Havelok’s mouth. Ubbe 
went and called his knights and they also came in and saw this 
marvel. It was brighter than a hundred burning tapers ; bright 
enough to choose money by. Havelok lay on his left side with 
his back towards them, uncovered to the waist; and they saw the 


Havelok, 


187 

king-mark on his right shoulder sparkle like shining gold and 
carbuncle. Then knew they that it was King Birkabeyn’s son, 
and seeing how like he was to his father, they wept for joy. 
Thereupon Havelok awoke, and all fell down and did him 
homage, saying he should be their king. On the morrow Ubbe 
sent far and wide and gathered together earl and baron, dreng 
and thane, clerk, knight, and burgess, and told them all the 
treason of Godard, and how Havelok had been nurtured ind 
brought up by Grim in England. Then he showed them their 
king, and the people shouted for joy at having so fair and strong 
a man to rule them. And first Ubbe sw’are fealty to Havelok, 
and after him the others both great and small. And the sheriffs 
and constables and all that held castles in town or burg came out 
and promised to be faithful to him. Then Ubbe drew his sword 
and dubbed Havelok a knight, and set a crown upon his head and 
made him king. And at the crowning they held merry sports— 
jousting with sharp spears, tilting at the shield, wrestling, and 
putting the stone. There were harpers and pipers and glee-men 
with their tabours; and for forty days a feast was held with rich 
meats in plenty and the wine flowed like water. And first the 
king made Eobert and William Wendut and Hugh Eaven all 
barons, and gave them land and fee. Then when the feast was 
done, he set out with a thousand knights and five thousand 
sergeants to seek for Godard. Godard was a-hunting with a 
great company of men, and Eobert riding on a good steed found 
him and bade him come to the king. Godard smote him and set 
on his knights to fight with Eobert and the king’s men. They 
fought till ten of Godard’s men were slain; the rest began to 
flee. ‘Turn again, O knights!’ cried Godard, ‘I have fed you 
and shall feed you yet. Forsake me not in such a plight.’ So 
they turned about and fought again. But the king’s men slew 
every one of them and took Godard and bound him and brought 
him to Havelok. Then King Havdok summoned all his nobles 
to sit in judgment and say what should be done to such a traitor. 
And they said, ‘ Let him be dragged to the gallows at the mare’s 
tail, and hanged by the heels in fetters, with this writing over 
him, “ This is he that reft the king out from the land, and the 
life from the king’s sisters.’” So Godard suffered his doom and 
none pitied him. 

Then Havelok gave his sceptre into Earl Ubbe’s hand to rule 
Denmark on his behalf, and after that took ship and came to 
Grimsby, where he built a priory for black monks to pray ever¬ 
more for the peace of Grim’s soul. But when Earl Godrich 


188 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

understood that Havelok and his wife were come to England, he 
gathered together a great army to Lincoln on the 17th of March, 
and came to Grimsby to do battle with Havelok and his knights. 
It was a great battle, wherein more than a thousand knights 
A^ere slain. The field was covered with pools of blood. Hugh 
Eaven and his brothers, Eobert and William, did valiantly and 
slew many earls; but terrible was Earl Godrich to the Danes, for 
his sword Avas swift and deadly as the levin fork. Havelok came 
to him and minding him of the oath he sware to Athelwold that 
Goldborough should be queen, bade him yield the land. But 
Godrich defied him, and running forward with his heavy sword 
cut Havelok’s shield in two. Then Havelok smote him to the 
earth with a blow upon the helm; but Godrich arose and wounded 
him upon the shoulder, and Havelok, smarting with the cut, ran 
U])on his enemy and heAved off his right hand. Then he took 
Earl Godrich and bound him and sent him to the queen. And 
when the English knew that Goldborough was the heir of Athel¬ 
wold they laid by their swords and came and asked pardon of 
the queen. And with one accord they took Earl Godrich and 
bound him to a stake and burned him to ashes for the great 
outiage he had done. 

Then all the English nobles came and sware fealty to Havelok, 
and crowned him king in London. Of Grim’s two daughters 
Havelok wedded Gunild the elder to Earl Eeyner of Chester;, 
and Levive the younger, fair as a new rose blossom opening to 
the sun, he married to Bertram, the cook, whom he made Earl 
of Cornwall in the room of Godrich. 

Sixty years reigned Havelok and Goldborough in England, 
and they had fifteen children, who all became kings and queens. 
All the world spake of the ^eat love that was betwixt them 
twain. Apart, neither knew joy or happiness. They grew never 
weary one of the other, for their love Avas ever new; and not a 
word of anger passed between them all their lives. 


^£OlXluIf. 


ScEF and ScyM and Bedwulf—these were the god-like kings of 
the Gar-Danes in days of yore. 

Upon the sea and alone came Sc4f to the land of Scani. He 
came in fashion as a babe, floating in an ark upon the waters, 
and at his head a sheaf of corn. God sent him for the comfort 
of the people because they had no king. He tore down the 
foemen’s thrones, and gave the people peace and passed away. 

From him proceeded Scyld the Scefling, the strong war prince, 
wise in counsel, generous ring-giver. When Scyld grew old and 
decrepit, and the time drew near that he should go away into the 
peace of the Lord, he would be carried to the sea-shore. Thither 
with sad hearts his people bare him, and laid him in the bosom 
of a war-ship heaped with treasure of gold and costly ornaments, 
with battle-weapons, bills and spears and axes, and linked war- 
mail. Rich sea-offerings of jewels and precious things they laid 
upon his breast. High over head they set up a golden ensign ; 
then unfurled the sail to the wind, and mournfully gave their 
king and all his treasures to the deep and solemn sea; to journey 
none knew whither. Upon the sea, and alone, went Scyld from 
the land of the Scani. He went in fashion as a king, floating 
away in his good ship along the track of the swans, his war- 
weeds and his battle-spoils beside him. He gave the people 
peace, and passed away. 

From him came Beowulf the Scylding, glorious and majestic, 
strong of hand, the beloved chieftain. He gave the people peace, 
and passed away. 

After the days of the god-like kings, the Danes chose Healfdene 
for their leader. He ruled long and well, and died in a good old 
age, and Hrothgdr his son reigned in his stead. To Hrothgar 
good fortune and success in war were given, so that he overcame 
his enemies, and made the Gar-Danes a powerful and wealthy 
people. 

Now, in his prosperity, it came into Hrothgdr’s mind to build 
a great mead-hall in his chief city; a lordly palace wherein his 
warriors and counsellors might feast, they and their children for 


190 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

ever, and be glad because of the riches which God had given 
them. Biggest of all palaces was the mead-hall of Hrothgjlr; 
high-arched and fair with pinnacles. He named it Heorot, that 
men might think of it as the heart and centre of the realm; that, 
banded together in friendship at one common banquet table, they 
might talk of measures for the common good. With a great 
feast he opened Heorot the palace, with sound of harp and song 
of Skald, giving gifts of rings and treasure; so that all the people 
rejoiced and became of one mind, and sware fealty to him. Then 
Hrothgar’s heart was lifted up because of Heorot which he had 
builded. 

But far away in the darkness where dwell the Jotuns and Orks 
and giants which war against God, there abode a mighty evil 
spirit, a Jotun, both terrible and grim, called Grendel, a haunter 
of the marshes, whose fastnesses were dank and fenny places. 
Grendel saw the lofty palace reared, and was filled with jealous 
anger because the people were as one, and because there was no 
longer any discord among them. At night he came to the mead- 
hall, where slept the nobles and thanes after the feast, forgetful 
of sorrow and unmindful of harm; he seized upon thirty men 
and carried them away to his dwelling-place, there to prey upon 
their carcases. Bitterly mourned the Gar-Danes for their brothers 
when awaking in the morning twilight they saw the track of the 
accursed spirit, and knew that mortal strength availed for nought 
against their enemy. Next night Grendel came and did the like, 
and so for twelve years thereafter came he oftentimes and snatched 
the Danes while they slumbered, and carried them away to slay 
and tear them, neither for any ransom would he be prevailed 
upon to make peace. The houses in the land became empty, 
because of the counsellors and warriors that were swept away to 
the death-shade of the Ogre of the misty marshes. But like a 
shepherd for his flock grieved Hrothgdr for the desolation of his 
people. Broken in spirit he sat in the many-coloured mead-hall, 
watching among his vassals through the night; but Grendel 
touched him not. To right and left of him the monster seized 
strong-hearted men, a helpless prey, but passed Hrothgdr by. 
God set his finger on the king that the Jotun should not harm 
him. Hrothgar grew wearied that he was spared while his dear 
friends were taken; and when men came to him for counsel, he, 
the wise counsellor, had none to give, but sat in silence, his head 
bowed in sorrow on his hands. Vainly the people prayed in the 
tabernacles to their idols that they would send a spirit-slayer 
down to save them. 


Beowulf, 191 

Away to the westward among the people of the Gedts lived a 
man, strongest of his race, tall, mighty-handed, and clean made. 
He was a thane, kinsman to Hygeldc the Geatish chief, and nobly 
born, being son of Ecgtheow the Wsegmunding, a war-prince 
who wedded with the daughter of Hrethel the Gedt. This man 
heard of Grendel’s deeds, of Hrothgar’s sorrow, and the sore 
distress of the Danes, and having sought out fifteen warriors, he 
entered into a new-pitched ship to seek the war-king aeross the 
sea. Bird-like the vessel’s swan-necked prow breasted the white 
sea-foam till the warriors reached the windy walls of cliff and 
the steep mountains of the Danish shores. They thanked God 
because the wave-ways had been easy to them; then, sea-wearied, 
lashed their wide-bosomed ship to an anchorage, donned their 
war-weeds, and came to Heorot, the gold and jewelled house. 
Brightly gleamed their armour and merrily sang the ring-iron of 
their trappings as they marched into the palace; and having 
leaned their ample shields against the wall, and piled their ashen 
javelins, steel-headed, in aheap, they came to where sat Hrothgar, 
old and bald, among his earls. HrothgAr looked upon the Geatish 
warriors, chief of whom Hygeldc’s servant, the mighty son of 
Ecgtheow, towered tall above the rest, god-like in his shining 
armour and the dazzling war-net of mail woven by the armourer. 
Seeing him, Hrothgar was ware that the son of Ecgtheow was 
Beowulf, raised up of God to be a champion against Grendel the 
evil spirit,—Beowulf the mighty-handed one, in the gripe of whose 
fingers was the strength of thirty men. And while wonderingly 
he gave him welcome, Beowulf spake, ‘ Hail, 0 King Hrothgar! 
Alone and at night T have fought with evil-beings, both Jbtuns 
and Nicors, and have overcome; and now, to deliver the bright 
Danes from their peril, have I sailed across the sea to undertake 
battle with Grendel the Ogre. And since no weapon may avail 
to wound the flinty-hided fiend, I will lay by my sword and 
shield, and empty-handed go to meet him. I will grapple with 
him, strength against strength, till God shall doom whether of us 
two Death taketh. If I be bereft of life, send back to HygeUc 
the war-shroud which Wayland forged to guard my breast, but 
make no corpse-feast for me: bury my body, and mark its resting- 
place, but let the passer-by eat without mourning; fate goeth 
ever as it must.’ 

Hrothgdr answered, ' Well know I, 0 my friend Beowulf, of 
your bravery and the might that dwelleth in your fingers i But 
very terrible is Grendel. Full oft my hardy warriors, fierce over 
the'ale-cup at night, have promised to await the Ogre with the 


192 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

terror of their swords and dare his wrath ; but as oft at morning 
tide the benched floor of the palace has reeked with their blood. 
But since your mind is valiant, sit down with us to our evening 
feast, where by old custom we incite each other to a brave and 
careless mind before night set in, and Grendel come to choose his 
prey.’ 

Then were the benches cleared, and Beflwulf and the Geats 
sate in the mead-hall at the banquet with the Danes. Freely 
flowed the bright sweet liquor from the twisted ale-cup borne by 
the cup-bearer in his ofiice, whilst the Skald sang of old deeds 
of valour. 

Then said Bedwulf, ‘Full many a man of you hath Grendel 
made to sleep the sleep of the sword, and now he looketh for no 
battle from your hands. But I, a Ge^t, who in the old time have 
slain strange shapes of horror in the air or deep down underneath 
the waves, will encounter him, and alone ; unarmed, I will guard 
this mead-hall through the night. Alone with the fiend wdll I 
await the shining of the morrow’s sun on victory, or else sink 
down into death’s darkness fast in the Ogre’s grasp.’ Hrothgdr, 
the old-haired king, took comfort at his steadfast intent, and 
Wealtheow the Queen, so fair and royally hung with gold, herself 
bear forth the mead-cup to Befiwulf, and greeted him with wdn- 
some words as champion of her people. Bedwulf took the cup 
from Wealtheow’s hands saying, ‘ No more shall Grendel prey 
upon the javelin-bearing Danes till he has felt the might of my 
fingers.’ Happy were the people at his boldness, and blithe their 
joy over the well-served hall-cup. 

Then King Hrothg^r would seek his evening rest, for the wan 
shadows of night were already darkening the welkin. The com¬ 
pany arose and greeted man to man, and Hrothgjir greeted Bed- 
wulf and said, ‘ 0 friend, never before did I commit this hall to 
any man’s keeping since I might lift a spear. Have now and hold 
this best of palaces. Be wakeful and be valorous, and nothing 
that thou mayest ask shall be too great a prize for victory.’ So 
the king departed with his troop of heroes from the mead-hall. 

Beowulf took off his coat of iron mail, loosed the helmet from 
his head, and from his thigh the well-chased sword; and having 
put aside his war-gear wholly, stepped upon his bed and laid him 
down. Around him in the dusk lay many well-armed Danes 
slumbering from weariness. The darkness fell, and all the 
keepers of the palace slept save one. Bedwulf in a restless mood, 
naked and weaponless, waited for the foe. 

Then in the pale night Grendel the shadow-walker rose up with 


Beowulf. 193 

the mists from the" marshes and came to Heorot, the pinnacled 
palace. He tore away the iron bands, fire-hardened, wherewith 
the doors were fastened, and trod the many-coloured floor of the 
sounding hall. Like fire the anger flashed from his eyes, light¬ 
ening the darkness with a hideous light. Terribly he laughed as 
he gloated on the sleeping Danes and saw the abundant feast of 
human flesh spread out around him. 

Bebwulf, the strong Waegmunding, held his breath to watch 
the method of the Ogre’s onset. Nor did the fiend delay, for 
quickly seizing a sleeping warrior he bit him in the throat, drank 
the blood from his veins, and tare his limbs and ate the dead 
man's feet and hands. Then coming nearer, Grendel laid his 
hands upon the watchful champion. Suddenly Bebwulf raised 
himself upon his elbow and clutched the Ogre fast; against the 
shoulder he fastened on the grim Jotun with his hands ; and held 
him. Never before had Grendel met the gripe of hands so 
strong. He bent himself with all his might against Bebwulf and 
dragged him from his bed, and toward the door; but Bedwulf’s 
fingers never slackened from their hold: he drew the Ogre back. 
Together they struggled upon the hall pavement till the palace 
rocked and thundered with their battle. Great wonder was it 
that the palace fell not, but it was made fast with well-forged 
iron bands within and without; yet many a mead-bench overlaid 
with twisted gold was torn from its place in the furious strife, 
and the ale spilled on the floor. But Grendel found the clutch of 
his enemy too strong; he could not loose it with all his wrest¬ 
lings ; and he knew that he must seek to flee away and hide 
himself in his marsh dwellings. But Bedwulf griped him tight; 
and when the fiend would drag him down the hall he put forth 
all his strength into his clenched hands. Suddenly the Ogre’s 
shoulder rift from neck to waist. The sinews burst asunder, the 
joints gave way, and Bedwulf tare the shoulder and the shoulder- 
blade from out his body. So Grendel escaped* from Bebwulf’s 
grasp and in his mortal sickness fled to the fens. There Death 
clutched him and he died. 

Then in the morning many warriors gathered to the mead-hall; 
and Bedwulf brought his trophy, Grendel’s hand and arm and 
shoulder, and hung it high in the palace that all might see. So 
hard were the fingers and the stiff nails of the war-hand that no 
well-proven steel would touch them. Hrothgdr thanked God and 
Bebwulf for this deliverance, and having made the broken palace 
strong again with iron bonds and hung it round about with 
tapestry, he held therein a costly feast of rejoicing with his war- 

N 


194 Poptilar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

riors and kinsmen, whereat many a mead-cup was outpoured. 
To Be6wulf he gave rich gifts: a golden ensign and a helm, a 
breastplate and a sword, each wrought with twisted work of gold, 
together with eight horses whose housings shone with precious 
stones. And when the lay of the glee-man was sung and the 
wine flowed, and the jocund noise from the mead-benches rose 
loud. Queen Wealtheow went forth under her golden crown and 
bear the royal cup to BeAwulf to drink. A ring she gave him of 
rare workmanship all aglow with carven gems, likewise sumptu¬ 
ous dresses, rich with broidered gold and' needlework of divers 
colours. ‘ Be happy and fortunate, my lord Be6wulf!’ she said. 
‘ Enjoy these well-earned gifts, dear warrior, for thou hast cleansed 
the mead-hall of the realm, and for thy prowess fame shall gather 
to thee, wide as the in-rolling sea that comes from all the corners 
of the world to circle round our windy walls.’ 

I'hen Wealtheow and her lord King Hrothgdr departed to take 
their evening rest, and Be6wulf went to a house appointed for 
him. But the warriors bared the benches, spread out their beds 
and bolsters, set their hard-rimmed shields at their heads, and lay 
down to sleep in the mead-hall. In their ringed mail-shirts they 
laid them down, ready for war, as was their custom in house and 
field : ready, if need should befall their lord. Good was the 
people. So darkness fell in the hall and the Hring-Danes slept, 
nor wot they that any were fated to die. But at midnight Gren- 
del’s mother arose from her dwelling in the cold streams, from 
her home in the terrible waters, and fiercely grieving for her son’s 
death came and walked the beautiful pavement of Heorot. Greedy 
of revenge she clutched a noble, very dear to Hrothgar, and tare 
him in his sleep. Then while the Danes, waking in tumult, were 
yet smitten with the terror of her presence, she seized from its 
hanging-place the well-known arm and shoulder of her son, and 
passed out quickly with the prize. A great cry rose in the mead- 
hall. Bedwulf and King Hrothgdr heard it, and came hastily to 
Heorot. 

When King Hrothgar knew what had been done, he said, ‘ 0 
Bedwulf, my friend ; still sorrow for my people bindeth me. 
-^schere, my councillor and war companion, hath been foully 
torn to death, nor can we tell whose shall be the next blood with 
which this new wolf-hearted fiend shall glut herself. Scarce a 
mile hence is her dwelling-place, a stagnant lake within a dark¬ 
some grove of hoary-rinded trees whose snaky roots twine all 
about the margin, shadowing it. A foul black water, whereon 
fire dwelle that night, a loathely lake wide-shunned of man and 


Bedwiilf, ' 195 

beast The hunted stag, driven thither, will rather part from life 
upon the brink than plunge tliereiin Darest thou seek this place, 
to battle with the monster and deliver us ?' 

The son of Ecgthedw the Waegmunding answered, ^ Yea, I 
dare. For to avenge a friend is better than to mourn for him. 
Neither can a man hasten nor delay his death-hour. Fate waiteth 
for us all; and he tlnit goeth forth to wreak justice need not 
trouble about his end, neither about what shall be in the days 
when he no longer lives.’ 

Then King Hrothgar gave thanks to the mighty God, and 
caused a steed witli curled hair to be bitted and led forth for 
Bedwulf. With a troop of shield-bearers he accompanied the hero 
along the narrow path across steep stone-cliffs over-hung with 
mountain trees, till they came to the joyless wood and the drear 
water where Grendel’s mother dwelt. Snakes and strange sea- 
dragons basked upon the turbid pool, and Nicors lay upon the 
promontories. Bedwulf blew upon his horn a terrible war-dirge, 
and they sank and hid themselves. Then in his war-mail shirt, 
which knew well how to guard his body from the clutch of battle, 
his white helmet, mail-hooded, on his head, and in his hand his 
hilted knife Hrunting, of trusty steel blood-hardened, Bedwulf 
plunged into the slimy lake and the sea-wave closed above him. 
Long he swam downward into the dark abyss before he found the 
bottom. There Grendel’s mother lay in wait and grappled him 
ill her claws, and bore him to her roofed sea-hall beneath the 
water, -where gleamed a pale fire-light. Then Behwulf saw the 
mighty sea-'woman, and furious, swung his heavy sword and 
brought it down with a crash upon her head. But the keen steel 
failed him in his need, for her hard skull turned its biting edge. 
So angrily flinging from him his twisted blade, and trusting 
wholly to his mighty hand-grip, he caught the wolf^woman by the 
shoulders and bent her backwards to the floor. Fiercely she gave 
back his grappling, and wrestled him till from weariness he rolled 
and fell; then, drawing her brown-edged knife she sought at one 
blow to avenge her son. But the hard battle-net upon his breast 
hindered the entrance of the knife, and God who rules the firma¬ 
ment protected him, so that he gat upon his feet again. Then 
Bebwulf saw hanging in the sea-hall a huge sword made by giants, 
a weapon fortunate in victory, doughty of edge, which none but 
he could wield. Hard gras}>ed he the war-bill by the hilt, and 
whirled it savagely against the sea--\7oman’s ring mail in despair 
of life. Furious he struck, and the bone-rings of her neck gave 
way before it; so the blade passed through her doomed body, 
and, war-wearied, her carcase lay lifeless on the floor. 


196 Popular Rom inces of the Middle Ages. 

Long time with patience waited: Hrothgar and his counsellors, 
looking into the dark lake where Bedwulf went down. Noon-day 
came, and seeing the water stained with blood, they deemed their 
champion was dead, and sorrowfully gat them home. 

But beneath the water was a great marvel. Bedwulf cut off 
the sea-woman’s head, but so hot and poisonous was her blood 
that the mighty sword which reeked therewith melted and burned 
away, all save the hilt. So it wasted like the ice when the sun 
loosens the frost-chain and unwinds the wave-ropes. Then Be6- 
wulf swam upwards with his heavy burden, the sea-woman’s head 
and the sword-hilt, and having reached the shore he saw the lake 
dry up. By its hair he carried the woman’s head, awful and 
glaring, to the mead-hall, and showed the wondering Danes the 
golden sword-hilt wrought in fashion as a snake, and marked 
with Runic characters wherein the history of its forging was set 
forth. Bedwulf said, ‘God and my strong hand prospered me 
and gave me victory. Yea, in my strength I have wrested away 
the sword wherewith the giants before the Flood defied the 
Eternal God ! I have overcome the enemies of God, who have 
battled with Him unsubdued for countless years ! Wherefore fear 
not, King Hrothgar, for thou and thine may sleep secure in 
Heorot which I have cleansed ! ’ 

The wise and hoary king, the mingled-haired, gazed long 
in silence on the sword-hilt, reading of the wondrous smiths that 
made it after the fall of the devils. Then he spake gently, ‘ O 
niy friend Bedwulf, great is thy glory and uplifted high, and 
wondrous are the ways of God who through the wisdom of His 
great mind distributeth so much strength to one man, making 
him a refuge-city for the peoples. But suffer a kindly word of 
counsel, dear warrior. When all things are subject to a man, 
when the world turneth at his will, he forgetteth that the flower 
of his strength and his glory are but for a little while before he 
leave these poor days and fade away forgotten and another come 
in his place. But the great Shepherd of the Heavens liveth on, 
and raiseth up and putteth down whom He will. Dear friend, 
beware of pride, which groweth up and anon beguileth the heart 
so fast to sleep that the warrior remembereth not how Death will 
overpower him at the last. So gloried I, when with spear and 
sword having freed the Hring-Danes from all their enemies under 
heaven, I built this mead hall in my pride and reckoned not upon 
an adversary. But God sent Grendel many years to trouble me, 
till my pride was humbled, and He brought me a deliverer in 
thee. Wherefore I give Him thanks and pray thee to be like- 


197 


Bedwulf. 

minded, to bear thine honours meekly and to choose eternal 
gains. Go now with gladness to the feast, and to-morrow we 
will give forth treasure, the dear mead of warriors.’ 

Great joy was there in many-windowed Heorot, and when Night 
covered tlie land with her dusky helmet the warriors laid them 
down in peace and slept beneath the lofty arches, various with 
gold ; no foe came near the noble dwelling-place; for Heorot was 
fully purged. 

After that, when Bedwulf would make ready his vessel to cross 
the sea again to his kinsman Hygeldc, lord of the Gedts, King 
Hrothgdr loaded him with a multitude of gifts of gold and rings 
and battle-harness, and made a treaty with him that there should 
be peace for ever betwixt the Gar-Danes and the Gedts, and that 
the treasures of both peoples should be held in common. So 
Beowulf and his companions entered their sharp-keeled ship and 
sailed to their home across the wide sea-plain, the sea-gull’s path. 
Hygeldc welcomed him returning spoil-laden from the game of 
war, and Bedwulf shared his treasures with his friends and kins¬ 
folk. Yet was it for a long time a shame and reproach to the 
Gedts that they held the might and courage of Bedwulf in but 
little esteem, neither made they him a ruler and a chief among 
them. During many years the son of Ecgthedw grew old in good 
and quiet deeds; for he, the fierce in war, was gentle of mind, 
and meekly held the might and strength wherewith he was indued 
of God. But the Swedes came up to battle against the Gedts, 
and in his time of need Hygeldc went to his treasure-house and 
brought forth Nagling, the wound-hardened sword, old and grey 
spotted, of Hrethel, Bedwulfs grandfather, and gave it to the 
strong Waegmunding, and made him captain over seven thousand 
warriors and gave him a royal seat. So Bedwulf went to battle 
and drave out the enemy. But Hygeldc fell in the war tumult. 
Thereby the broad kingdom came by inheritance into Beowulfs 
hand : and he was made king and held it fifty years with a strong 
arm against all foes, ruling wisely as a prudent guardian of his 
people. 

Now, in those days, a terrible fiaming dragon began to rule 
in the dark nights, a fire-drake which long had abode in the 
cavern of a rocky cliff hard by the sea, along a difficult and stony 
path unknown to men. All his cavern was full of ancient treasure 
in rings and vases and golden ornaments, which he had secretly 
stolen during a space of three hundred years. Folk missed their 
gold and jewels, but knew not who the robber was, until one 
night a wayfarer by chance wandered into the cave and saw the 


198 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

precious hoard and the dragon slumbering by it, and snatched a 
golden drinking-cup from the glittering heap and fled. Hot 
burned the dragon’s anger when, awaking, he missed the gold 
drinking-cup, and saw that his secret treasure-hoard was known 
to men. He rose upon his flaming wings each night and sped 
to and fro seeking the man who had done him this evil; and 
where he went he consumed houses and people and scorched the 
land into a wilderness. The waves of fire reached the palace and 
destroyed that best of buildings, the fastness of the Geats, and 
the people trembled for fear of the terrible flyer of the air. Dark 
thoughts came into Beowulf’s mind, insomuch that he was even 
angry with the Almighty because of the plague which visited the 
people, and in his bitterness he spake hard things against the 
Eternal Lord such as befitted him not. Then he commanded to 
make a variegated shield of iron, strong and well-tempered, to. 
withstand the fire-breath of the adversary, and having put on his 
war-mail, he called together his warriors, and said, ‘Many a 
battle, O my comrades, have I dared from my youth up ; many 
a warrior’s soul have I loosed from its shattered house of bone 
with my biting war-bill. Now for the greater glory of my age 
will I seek this flaming war-fly alone. Be it yours to abide afar 
off on the hill and watch the combat, but take no part therein. 
The glory and the treasure and the war are mine alone. Would 
I might proudly grapple with nothing but my naked hands against 
this wretch, as of old I did with Grendel! But since the war- 
fire is so fierce and poisonous, I take my shield and byrnie and 
my sword. Not a footstep will I flee till Fate make up her 
reckoning betwixt us.’ 

Then arose the famous warrior, stoutly trusting in his strength, 
and came to the hoary stone-cliff whence waves of fire flowed like 
a rushing mountain torrent. Boldly and with angry words the 
lord of the Gedts defied the fire-drake to come out and face the 
thirsty steel of Nagling, his sharp-edged blade. 

Quickly the winged worm answered to his challenge. Bending 
itself together for the contest, and darting furious flames, it 
closed in battle with the haughty warrior; and they who beheld 
afar off saw nothing but the fire which wrapped the fighters 
round. The good shield guarded Beowulf’s body less truly than 
he had hoped from the beams of fire. Nagling, the hard-edged, 
bit less strongly than the champion, who knew so well to swing 
the war-bill, had need in his extremity: the keen sword deceived 
him as a blade of such old goodness ought not to have done. 
The fierce treasure-keeper, boiling with fury, flooded the plain 


Bedwulf. 199 

in a sea of fire, so that the nobles which watched the combat 
turned and fled to the wood for safety. All turned and fled save 
one. Wiglaf, son of Weohstdn, a dear shield-warrior, only kins¬ 
man of Beowulf, saw his lord sulfer in the bitter strife, and his 
heart could no longer refrain. He seized his shield of yellow 
lindenwood, and his old tried sword. ‘Comrades,’ he cried, 
‘ forget ye all the gifts of rings and treasure we have received 
from Bedwulf’s hands at the daily out-pouring of the mead % 
Forget ye his past benefits and his present need 1 ’ Then he ran 
through the deadly smoke and the clinging fire to succour his 
dear lord. The flame burnt up his linden shield, but Wiglaf 
ran boldly underneath the shield of his master and fought at his 
side. Then Beowulf, jealous for his single fame, though heat- 
oppressed and wearied, swung his great war-sword and drave it 
down mightily upon the head of the fire-drake. But Nagling 
failed him, and brake in sunder with the blow; for Bebwulf’s 
hand was too strong and overpowered every swordblade forged 
by mortal man, neither was it granted to him at any time that 
the edges of the smith’s iron might avail him in war. Wildly he 
spurned the treacherous sword-hilt from him, and furious rushed 
upon the fiery worm and clutched it by the neck in the terrible 
gripe of his naked hands. There upon the plain he throttled it, 
while the burning life-blood of the fire-drake boiled up from its 
throat and set his hands aflame. Yet loosened he never his 
gripe, but held the twining worm till Wiglaf carved its body in 
twain with his sword. Then Bedwulf flung the carcase to the 
earth and the fire ceased. 

But the fiery blood was on his hands ; and they began to burn 
and swell; and he felt the poison course through all his veins 
and boil up in his breast. Then Beowulf knew that he drew 
nigh the end of this poor life; and whilst Wiglaf cooled his 
wounds with water, he said, ‘ Fifty years have I shepherded my 
people, and though so strong no king dared greet me with his 
warriors, I have only fought to hold my own. Neither have I 
made war on any man for lust of gain or conquest, nor oppressed 
the weak, nor sworn unjustly. Wherefore I fear not that the 
Euler of m*en will reproach me with the doings of my life. But 
now, dear Wiglaf, go quickly to the cavern and bring me of the 
gold and many-coloured gems that I may look thereon before I 
die ; that so, feasting my eyes with the treasure I have purchased 
for my people, I may more gently yield up my life.’ 

So Wiglaf hastened and came to the fire-drake’s treasure-house; 
and lo! his eyes were dazzled with the glittering gold, the dishes, 


200 Popular Romafices of the Middle Ages. 

cups, and bracelets that were heaped witliin the cave and lightened 
it. Then he laded himself with gem-bright treasure, one trinket 
of each kind, and a lofty golden ensign, the greatest wonder made 
with hands, and a war-bill jewelled, shod with brass and iron- 
edged; and came again to his master. Fast ebbed the chieftain’s 
life upon the sward. Senseless he lay, and very near his end. 
VYigUf cooled his fiery veins with sprinkled water, and the lord 
of the Geats opened his eyes and gazed upon the golden cu})s and 
variegated gems. He said, ‘ Now give I thanks to the Lord of 
All, the King of Glory, for the precious riches which mine eyes 
behold; nor do I grudge to have spent my life to purchase such 
a treasure for my people. Bid them not to weep my death, but 
rather glory in my life. Let them make a funeral fire wherein 
to give my body to the hot war-waves; and let them build for 
my memorial a lofty, mound to sea-wards on the windy promontory 
of Hronesnaes, that the sea-sailors as they journey on the deep 
may see it from afar and say, “ That is Beowulf’s cairn.”’ 

Then from his neck he lifted his golden chain, and took his 
helmet and his byrnie and his ring and gave them to Wigldf, 
saying, ‘ Dear friend, thou art the last of all our kin, the last of 
the Waegmundings. Fate hath long swept my sons away to 
death. I must go and seek them ! * So parted his soul from his 
breast. 

Presently came the nobles which before had fled, and found 
Wiglaf washing the body of their prince with water and sorrow¬ 
fully calling upon him by name. Bitterly spake Wiglaf to them. 

‘ Brave warriors ! Now that the war is over, have you in truth 
summoned courage up to come and share the treasure ? You, 
who forsook the treasure-earner in his need; forsook in his 
extremity the high prince who gave you the very war-trappings 
wherein you stand ? I tell you nay. You shall see the treasure 
with your eyes and hold it in your hands, but it shall not profit 
you. The Swedes beyond the sea who came against Hygelac 
and slew him, the same that Bedwulf overcame and drave out, 
when they learn that our strong warrior has passed into his rest, 
will come again and snatch the land from your weak holding and 
carry you away into bondage, and seize the treasure. Let it be 
his who won it! Safer will he guard it in his sleep than you 
with feeble war-blades and weak javelins. Let the lord of the 
Geats slumber with it in the cairn which we shall build for him; 
so shall men fear to touch the treasure as they would to snatch a 
sleeping lion’s prey.’ 

So with one accord they bare the hoary warrior to Hronesnaes, 


Beoumlf. 201 

and from the cavern drew out the twisted gold in countless 
waggon-loads. 

Tiien for Bedwulf did the people of the Gedts prepare a funeral 
pile, strong, hung round with helmets, with war-boards and 
bright byriiies ; and weeping they laid their lord upon the wood. 
Eight chosen warriors walked with Wiglaf round tile pile with 
torches to kindle the bale-fire. The wood smoke rose aloft, the 
noise of mourning of a people sorry of mood mingled with the 
crackling of the blaze, and the wind blew on the war-bier till the 
tlames consumed the bone-house of the mighty-handed chief. 

Then the Geats wrought a great cairn beside the sea. It was 
high and broad, and easy to behold by the sailors over the waves. 
Ten days they wrought thereat, and built up the beacon vast and 
tall, and laid the ashes of their lord therein. Then they brought 
the rings and gems and ornaments and put them in the mound. 
No earl ever wore the twisted gold for a memorial, no maiden 
was made glad with the golden rings upon her neck, but the 
treasure sleeps in the earth with him who won 'it. Twelve 
nobles rode about the mound calling to mind their king in speech 
and song ; praising his valour; even as it is fit that a man should 
extol his lord and love him in his soul after his body has become 
valueless and only his deeds remain. 

So mourned the people of the Geats for their dear lord. And 
they said of him that he was the mildest and gentlest of all the 
kings of the world, the most gracious to his people and the most 
jealous for their glory. 


THE NAME * BEOWULF.’ 

Cambridge, February 19, 1R77, 

The sense of this name has excited speculation. It clearly means a bee-wolf; 
only, what animal is that ? I believe Mr Sweet once suggested that it means a 
bear, because bears are fond of honey. I wish to draw attention to the fact that 
the bid Dutch hiewolf, according to Kilian, was a wooilpecker. I read that the 
great black woodpecker is common in Norway and Sweden, and that its food con¬ 
sists of the larvae of wasps, bees, and other insects. Also, that the green wood¬ 
pecker, found in most countries of Europe, has been known to take bees from a 
hive. ^Tlie question remains, why should the woodpecker be selected as the typo 
of a hero ? The answer is simple—viz., because of its indomitable nature ; it is 
a bird that fights to the death. Wilson says of an ivory-billed woodpecker whom 
he put into a cage, that he did not survive his captivity more than three days, 
during which he manifested on unconquerable spirit, and refused all sustenance. 
This bird severely wounded Wilson while he was sketching him, and died with 
unabated spirit. ‘ This unconquerable courage most probably gave the head and 
bill of the bird so much value in the eyes of the Indians ’ [English Cycl NaU 
Hist., iv. 345). 

If the Indians were thus impressed, it is easy to see that our ancestors may have 
beer, the same, , Walteh W. Skeat. 



flo lattb. 

Charles the great king had tarried with his host seven years in 
Spain, until he conquered all the land down to the sea, and his 
banners were riddled through with battle-marks. There remained 
neither burg nor castle the walls whereof he brake not down, 
save only Zaragoz, a fortress on a rugged mountain top, so steep 
and strong that he could not take it. There dwelt the pagan 
King Marsilius, who feared not God but served Apollyon and 
Mahound. 

King Marsilius caused his throne to be set in his garden be¬ 
neath an olive tree, and thither he summoned his lords and 
nobles to council. Twenty thousand of his warriors being 
gathered about him, he spake to his dukes and counts saying, 

‘ What shall we do 1 Lo ! these seven years the great Charles 
has been winning all our lands till only Zaragoz remains to us. 
We are too few to give him battle, and, were it not so, man for 
man we are no match for his warriors. What shall we do to 
save our lands 1 * 

Then up and spake Blancandrin, wily counsellor—‘It is plain 
we must be rid of this proud Charles; Spain must be rid of him. 
And since he is too strong to drive out with the sword, let us try 
what promises will do. Send an ambassage and say we will give 
him great Ueasure in gold and cattle, hawk and hound ; say we 
will be his vassals, do him service at his call; say we will be 
baptized, forsake our gods and call upon his God : say anything, 
so long as it will persuade him to rise up with his host and quit 
our land. Fear nothing, promises cost little ; only promise large 
enough and we shall gain our ends. Wherefore let us choose out 
messengers to go to Charles and say after this manner : “ Mar¬ 
silius sends greeting to the mighty Charles. Thy servant Mar¬ 
silius owns thy power, and that it is vain to strive against thee. 
But he would make a league with thee. Marsilius will renounce 
his gods, be baptized into Christendom, do thee homage and 
henceforth be thy vassal. Only make not war upon him, but 
depart in peace to thine own land and go to Aachen, and there 
keep the feast of Saint Michael. Thither thy servant Marsilius 


Roland. 


203 


will haste to meet thee to perform all his coveiivat; and with 
him he will bring tribute, many lions and hounds, seven hundred 
camels, and a thousand moulted falcons ; four hundred harnessed 
mules, and fifty chariots laden with gold and silver.” By my 
right hand and beard, I swear we shall be rid of him. He will 
gather his warriors together and go back to his own people. He 
will want hostages, perchance, for the fulfilment of our covenant 
Let him have them. Let him have ten or twenty of our sons , 
he shall have mine for one. What matters so we save our land % 
Charles will go back to Aachen and hold the feast, and when 
the day comes round, will find we have beguiled him. Then 
he will wax furiously wroth and slay our hostages. What then ] 
Verily, it is better that a score of lads should lose their heads 
than that we should lose fair Spain. Better a score of us go 
childless than that all should come to beggary.’ 

And all the pagans said, ‘ It is well spoken.’ 

Now Charles and his host were pitched before Cordova, be 
sieging it. And King ^Marsilius chose out Blancandrin, and 
with him nine of the cruellest of his peers who likewise would 
give their sons to be hostages, to go upon this errand. At the 
king’s command men led forth ten white mules with golden 
bridles, and saddles trapped about with silver ; and he gave 
olive-branches to the messengers to bear in their hands withal in 
token of peace and friendship, and sent them on their journey to 
go and make to Charles all the fair promises which Blancandrin 
had counselled. 

Charles the Emperor held festival before Cordova, and rejoiced, 
he and his host, because they had taken the city. They had 
overthrown its walls; they had gotten much booty, both of gold 
and silver and rich raiment; they had put cables round about 
its towers and dragged them down. Not a pagan remained in 
the city; for they were all either slain or turned Christian. The 
emperor sat among his knights in a green pleasance. Eound 
about him were Boland his nephew, captain of his host, and 
Oliver, and Duke Sampson; proud Anseis, Geoffrey of Anjou the 
king’s standard-bearer, and fifteen thousand of the noblest born 
of gentle France. Some lounged upon the white cloth of damask 
spread upon the grass ; wise warriors of sober years sate round 
the chess-tables, wrapt in the plotting of their game ; the younger 
and more agile tilted on the green. Beneath a pine tree where a 
rose-briar twined, sat Charles the Great, ruler of France, upon a 
chair of gold. White and long was his beard ; huge of limb and 
hale of body was the king, and of noble countenance. It needed 


204 Popidar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

not that any man should ask his fellow, saying, ‘ Which is tho 
king V for all might plainly know him for the ruler of his people. 
So when the messengers of King Marsilius came into his pre¬ 
sence, they knew him straightway, and lighted quickly down 
from their mules and came meekly bending at his feet. Then 
said Blancandrin, ‘ God save the king, the glorious king whom 
a]l men ought to worship. My master King Marsilius sends 
greeting to the great Charles, whose power no man can with¬ 
stand, and he prays thee make peace with him. Marsilius offers 
gifts of bears and lions and leashed hounds, seven hundred 
camels and a thousand moulted falcons, of gold and silver so 
much as four hundred mules harnessed to fifty chariots can draw, 
with all his treasure of jewels. Only make the peace and get 
thee to Aachen, and my master will meet thee there at the feast 
of St. Michael; and he will be thy man henceforth in service 
and worship, and hold Spain of thee; in sooth, all that he hath 
will he hold of thee; thou shalt be his lord, and thy God shall 
be his God.* 

The emperor bowed his head the while he thought upon the 
purport of the message; for he never spake a hasty word, and 
never went back from a word once spoken. Having mused 
awhile he raised his head and answered, ‘ The King Marsilius is 
greatly my enemy. In what manner shall I be assured that he 
will keep his covenant*?* The messengers said, ‘Great king, we 
offer hostages of good faith, the children of our noblest. Take 
ten or twenty as it seemeth good to thee; but treat them tenderly, 
for verily at the feast of St. Michael our king will redeem his 
pledge, and come to Aachen to be baptized and pay his homage 
and tribute.’ 

Then the king commanded a pavilion to be spread wherein to 
lodge them for the night. And on the morrow, after they had 
taken their journey home, and the king had heard mass and 
matins, he called his barons to him. There came Duke Olger 
and Turpin the Archbishop, Tedbald of Eheims, Gerard and 
Gerin, Count Eoland, and Oliver his companion who was ever at 
his side, and with them many thousand noble warriors. Ganelon 
came also, he that wrought the treason and betrayed the Franks. 
Then the king showed them after what manner the messengers 
had spoken, and asked their counsel. With one voice the Franks 
answered, ‘ Beware of King Marsilius.* 

Then spake Eoland and said, ‘ Parley not with him, trust him 
not. Eemember how he took and slew Count Basant and Count 
Basil, the messengers whom we sent to him aforetime on a peace- 


Roland, 


205 


ful errand. Seven years have we been in Spain, and now only 
Zaragoz holds out against us. Be not slack to finish what has 
been so long a-doing and is well-nigh done. Gather the host \ 
lay siege to Zaragoz with all thy might, and avenge the blood of 
Basant and Basil; conquer the last stronghold of the pagans; so 
win Spain, and end this long and weary war.’ 

But Ganelon drew near to the king and spake : Heed not the 
counsel of any babbler, unless it be to thine own profit. What 
has Marsilius promised 1 Will he not give up his gods, himself, 
his service and his treasure ? Could man ask more 'I Could we 
get more by fighting him ? How glorious would it be to go to 
war with a beaten man who offers thee his all! How wise to 
wage a war to win what one can get without! Boland is wholly 
puffed up with the pride of fools. He counsels battle for his 
glory’s sake. What careth he how many of us be slain in a 
causeless fight, if he can win renown ] Boland is a brave man; 
brave enough and strong enough to save his skin, and so is reck¬ 
less of our lives.’ 

Then said Duke Naymes (a better vassal never stood before a 
king), ‘ Ganelon has spoken well, albeit bitterly. Marsilius is 
altogether vanquished, and there is no more glory in fighting him. 
Spurn not him who sues at thy feet for pity. Make peace, and 
let this long war end.’ And all the Franks answered, ‘The 
counsel is good.’ 

So Charles said, ‘ Who will go up to Zaragoz to King Marsilius, 
and bear my glove and staff and make the covenant with himl’ 

Duke Naymes said straightway, ‘ I will go;’ but the king 
answered, ‘ Nay, thou shalt not go. Thou art my right hand in 
counsel and I cannot spare thee.’ Then said Boland, ‘ Send me.’ 
But Count Oliver, his dear companion, said, ‘ What! send thee 
upon a peaceful errand 1 Hot-blooded as thou art, impatient of * 
all parleying 'i Nay, good Boland, thou would’st spoil any truce. 
Let the king send me.’ 

Charles stroked his long white beard and said, ‘Hold your 
peace, both of you; neither shall go.’ 

Then arose Archbishop Turpin and said, ‘Let me go. I am 
eager to see this pagan Marsilius and his heathen band. I long 
to baptize them all, and make their everlasting peace.’ 

The king answered, ‘ All in good time, zealous Turpin ; but 
first let them make their peace with me: take thy seat. Noble 
IVanks, choose me a right worthy man to bear my message to 
Marsilius.’ 

itoland answvsred, ‘Send Ganelon, my step-father.’ And the 


2o6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Franks said, ‘ Ganelon is the man, for there is none more cunning 
of speech than he.’ 

Now when the coward Ganelon heard these words, he feared 
greatly, well-knowing the fate of them which had gone aforetime 
as messengers to Marsilius; and his anger was kindled against 
Eoland insomuch that the fashion of his countenance changed in 
sight of all. Then he arose from the ground, and throwing the 
mantle of sable fur from his neck, said fiercely to Eoland, ‘ Men 
know full well that I am thy step-father, and that there is no 
love between us; but thou art a fool thus openly to show thy 
malice. If God but give me to return alive, I will requite thee.’ 

Eoland answered, ‘ I hear thy words and despise them. These 
men well know I had no thought of malice. The errand is 
honourable, and needs a man both skilful and complaisant of 
speech. Be proud if the king adjudges it to thee.’ 

Then spake Ganelon, ‘ I should not go at thy bidding: thou 
hast never gone or come at mine. Thou art not my son nor am I 
thy sire. Let Charles command me, I will do his service. But 
thou shalt repent of this.’ Thereat Eoland laughed aloud. And 
Ganelon, when he heard him laugh, turned in a rage and said, 

‘ You shall repent of this !’ Then he came bending to King 
Charles, ‘ Eightful emperor, I am ready to go up to Zaragoz, 
albeit no messenger ever returned thence alive. But I pray thee 
for my boy Baldwin, who is yet young, that thou wilt care for 
him. Is he not the son of thy sister whom I wedded 1 Let him 
have my lands and honours, and train him up among thy knights 
if I return no more.’ 

Charles answered, ‘ Be not so faint-hearted ; take the glove and 
baton, since the Franks have awarded it to thee, and go, do my 
bidding.’ Ganelon said, ‘ Sire, this is Eoland’s doing. All my 
* life have I hated him; and I like no better his companion, Oliver. 
And as for the twelve champion peers of France, who stand by 
him in all he does, and in whose eyes Eoland can do no wrong, I 
defy them all, here and now.’ 

Charles smoothed his snowy beard and saia, ‘Verily Count 
Ganelon thou hast an ill humour. Wert thou as valiant of fight 
as thou art of speech, the twelve peers perchance might tremble. 
But they laugh. Let them. Thy tongue may prove of better 
service to us upon this mission than their swords.’ Then the 
king drew off the glove from his right hand, and held it forth ; 
but Ganelon, when he went to take it, let it fall upon the ground. 
Thereat the Franks murmured, and said one to another, ‘This 
is an evil omen, and bodes ill for the message.’ But Ganelon 


Roland. 


207 


picked it up quickly, sfiying, *Fear not: you shall all hear tid¬ 
ings of it.’ And Ganelon said to the king, ‘ Dismiss me, I pray 
thee.’ So the king gave him a letter signed with his hand and 
seal, and delivered to him the staff, saying, ‘ Go, in God’s name 
and mine.’ 

Many of his good vassals would fain have accompanied him 
upon his journey, hut Ganelon answered, ‘ Nay. ’Tis better one 
should die than many. Stay here, and if I am slain, like Basil 
and Basant, be true liegemen to my son Baldwin, and see you get 
him my lands.’ Then Ganelon leapt to horse, and rode on until 
he overtook the pagan messengers who had halted beneath an 
olive tree to rest. There Blancandrin talked with Ganelon of the 
great Charles, and of the countries he had conquered, and of his 
riches and the splendour of his court. Ganelon also spake bitterly 
of Boland and his eagerness for war, and how he continually 
drave the king to battle, and was the fiercest of all the Franks 
against the pagans. Then after they had rested, they gat to 
horse again, and Ganelon rode with Blancandrin a little apart 
from the rest. And Blancandrin said to Ganelon, ‘ Shall we have 
peace V Ganelon said, ‘ He that sueth for peace often seeketh 
opportunity for war.’ Blancandrin answered, ‘ He that beareth 
peace to his master’s enemies often desireth to be avenged of his 
own.’ Then each of the two men knew the other to be a rogue ; 
and they made friends, and opened their hearts to each other, and 
each spake of what was in his mind, and they laid their plans. 
So it befell that when they came to Zaragoz, Blancandrin took 
Ganelon by the hand, and led him to King Marsilius, saying, ‘ 0 
King! who boldest thy power of Mohammed and Apollyon, we 
have borne thy message to the haughty Charles, but he answered 
never a word. He only raised his hands on high to his God, and 
held his peace; but he has sent the noble Count Ganelon, at whose 
mouth we shall hear whether we may have peace or no.’ 

Then Ganelon, who had well considered beforehand what he 
should say, began, ‘ God save the worthy King Marsilius. Thus 
saith the mighty Charles through me his messenger: “ So thou 
wilt become a Christian, I will give thee the half of Spain to hold 
of me in feof, and thou shalt pay me tribute and be my servant. 
Otherwise I will come suddenly and take the land away by force, 
and will bring thee to Aachen, to my court, and will there put 
thee to death.” ’ 

When King Marsilius heard this, the colour went from his face, 
and he snatched a javelin by the shaft, and poised it in his hand. 
Ganelon watched him, his fingers playing the while with the 


2o8 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

sword hilt underneath his mantle, and he said, * Great hmg, 1 
have given my message and have freed me of my burden. Let 
the bearer of such a message die if so it seemeth good to thee. 
But I dared not leave this land, for all the gold God made, with¬ 
out delivering my master’s message. What shall it profit thee to 
slay the messenger ? Will that wipe out the message, or bring a 
gentler one 1 Or thinkest tliou Charles careth not for his barons ] 
Bead now the writing of King Charles the Great.’ Tli ere with he 
gave into the king’s hand a parchment he had made ready in the 
likeness of his master’s writing. And Marsilius brake the seal, 
and read the letter: ‘ I, King Charles, remember how thou slowest 
Basant and his brother Basil; and before I will make the peace, 
I command thee send hither to me thine uncle, the Caliph, that 
sitteth next thee on the throne, that I may do with him as I will.* 
Then the King’s son drew his scimitar and ran on Ganelon, saying, 
‘Give him to me; it is not fit this man should live!’ But 
Ganelon turned, brandished his sword and set his back against a 
pine-trunk. Then cried Blancandrin, ‘Do the Frank no harm; 
for he has pledged himself to he our spy, and work for our profit.* 
So Blancandrin went and fetched Ganelon, and led him by the 
hand and brought him against the king. And the king said, 

‘ Good Sir Ganelon, I was wrong to be angry; but I will make 
amends. I will give thee five hundred pieces of gold in token of 
my favour.’ Ganelon answered, ‘ He that taketh not counsel to 
his own profit is a fool. God forbid I should so ill requite thy 
bounty as to say thee nay.’ 

Marsilius said, ‘ Charles is very old. For years and years he 
has fought and conquered, and put down kings and taken their 
lands, and heaped up riches more than can be counted. Is he 
not yet weary of war, nor tired of conquest, nor satisfied with his 
richest Ganelon answered, ‘Charles has long been tired of war; 
but Roland, his captain, is a covetous man, and greedy of posses¬ 
sions. He and his companion Oliver, and the twelve peers of 
France, continually do stir up the king to war. These lead the 
king to do whatsoever it listeth them ; but he is become old and 
feeble, and is aweary of them, and fain would rest. Were these 
but slain, the world would be at peace. But they have under 
them full twenty thousand men, the pick of all the host of France, 
and they are very terrible in war.’ 

Marsilius spake to him again, saying, ‘ Tell me; I have four 
hundred thousand warriors, better men were never seen; would 
not these suffice to fight with Charles V 

Ganelon answered, ‘Nay; what folly is this I Heed wise? 


Rola^id. 


209 


counsel. Send back the hostages to Charles with me. Then 
will Charles gather his host together, and depart out of Spain, 
and go to Aachen, there to await the fulfilment of thy covenant. 
Ilut he will leave his rear-guard of tw^enty thousand, together 
with Koland and Oliver and the Twelve, to follow after him. 
Fall thou on these with all thy warriors; let not one escape. So 
shall the pride of Charles be broken; for tlie strength of his 
army is not in his host, but in these, and in Roland his right 
arm. Destroy them, and thou mayest choose thy terms of peace, 
for Charles will fight no more. The rearguard will take their 
journey by the pass of Siza, along the narrow Valley of Ronces- 
valles. Wherefore surround the valley with thy host, and lie in 
w'ait for them. They will fight hard, but in vain.’ 

Then Marsilius made him swear upon the book of the law of 
Mohammed, and upon his sword-handle, that all should happen 
as he had said. Thus Ganelon did the treason. And Marsilius 
gave Ganelon rich presents of gold and precious stones, and 
bracelets of great worth. He gave him also the keys of his city 
of Zaragoz, that he should rule it after these things were come to 
pass, and promised him ten mules’ burden of fine gold of Arabia. 
ISo he sent Ganelon again to Charles, and with him twenty 
hostages of good faith. 

When Ganelon came before Charles, he told him King Marsilius 
would perform all the oath which he sware, and was even now 
set out upon his journey to do his fealty, and pay the price of 
peace, and be baptized. Then Charles lifted up his hands 
towards Heaven, and thanked God for the prosperous ending of 
the war in Spain. 

Night fell and the king lay down to sleep. And as he slept 
he dreamed he was in the pass of Siza with no weapon in his 
hand save an ashen spear; and Count Ganelon came and snatched 
it from his hand and brake it into splinters. After that he 
dreamed he was in his royal city, and a viper came and fastened 
on his hand; and while he tried to shake it off, and could not, a 
leopard sprang on him and gat him down and would have slain 
him, but that a faithful hound leaped straightway on the leopard 
and gripped him by the ear. Then the dog and the leopard 
fought a terrible combat; but which of the twain overcame the 
other he could not tell. For the king tossed upon his bed in a 
sweat with the anguish of his dream; and he awaked and saw 
tlie sun shine brightly all about, and knew it was a dream. 

But the king arose and gathered to him his host to go away to 
keep the feast of Saint Michael at Aachen, and to meet Marsilius 

0 


21 o Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

there. And Olger the Dane made he captain of the vanguard of 
his army which should go with him. Then said the king to 
Ganelon, ‘ Whom shall I make captain of the rear-guard which I 
leave behind T Ganelon answered, ‘ lioland ; for there is none 
like him in all the host.’ Then Eoland said to his uncle the 
king, ‘ Give me the bow that is in thy hand ; I will not let it 
fall as Ganelon did the glove and staff. Trust me.’ So Charles 
made Roland captain of the rear-guard, and gave the bow into 
his hand. With Roland there remained behind, Oliver, his dear 
comrade, and the twelve peers, and Turpin the Archbishop, w’ho 
for love of Ronald would fain go with him, and twenty thousand 
jHoven warriors. Then said the king to his nephew, ‘ Good 
Roland, behold, the half of my army have I given thee in charge. 
See thou keep them safely.’ R-^land answered, ‘Fear nothing. 
I shall render good account of them.’ 

So they took leave of one another, and the king and his host 
marched forward till they reached the borders of Spain. They 
had to travel along steep and dangerous mountain ways, and 
down through silent valleys made gloomy with toppling crags. 
And ever as the king thought upon his nephew whom he left 
behind, his heart grew heavy with an ill foreboding. So they 
came into Gascoigny and saw* their own lands again. But Charles 
would not be comforted, for being come into France he would sit 
with his face wrapped in his mantle, thinking of his dreams; and 
he often spake to Duke Naymes, saying he feared that Ganelon 
had wrought some treason. 

Now Marsillus had sent in haste to all his emirs and his barons 
to assemble a mighty army, and in three days he gathered four 
hundred thousand men to Roncesvalles, and there lay in wait for 
the rear-guard of King Charles. And a great number of the most 
valiant pagan kings banded themselves together by a league to 
assail Roland in a body, and to fight with none other till he was 
slain. 

Now when the rear-guard had toiled up the rocky pass and 
climbed the mountain-ridge, way-wearied, they looked down on 
Roncesvalles, whither their journey lay. And behold! all the 
valley bristled with spears, and the valley-sides were overspread 
with them, for multitude like blades of grass upon a pasture ; and 
the murmur of the pagan host rose to them on the mountain as 
the murmur of a sea. Then when they saw that Ganelon had 
played them false, Oliver spake to Roland, ‘ What shall we now 
do because of this treason % For this is a greater multitude of 
pagans than has ever been gathered together in the world before. 


Roland, 


211 


And they will ceitainly give us battle.’ Eoland answered, * God 
grant it; for sweet it is to do our duty for our king. This will 
we do: when we have rested we will go forward.’ Then said 
Oliver, ‘We are but a handful. These are in number as the 
sands of the sea. Be wise; take now your horn, good comrade, 
and sound it; peradventure Charles may hear, and come back 
with his host to succour us.’ But Eoland answered, ‘The greater 
the number the more glory. God forbid T should sound my horn 
and bring Charles back with his barons, and lose my good name, 
and bring disgrace upon us all. Fear not the numbers of the 
host; I promise you they shall repent of coming here; they are 
as good as dead already in my mind.’ Three times Oliver urged 
him to sound his horn, but Eoland would not, for he said, ‘ God 
and His angels are on our side; througli Him we shall do great 
wonders, and He will not see us put to shame before His enemies.’ 
Yet again Oliver pleaded, for he had mounted up into a pine 
tree and seen more of the multitude that came against them; far 
as the eye could see they reached; and he prayed Eoland to come 
and see also. But he would not; ‘ Time enough,’ he said, ‘ to 
know their numbers when we come to count the slain. We will 
make ready for battle.’ 

Then Archbishop Turpin gathered the band of warriors about 
him, and said, ‘ It is a right good thing to die for king and faith; 
and verily this day we all shall do it. But have no fear of death. 
For we shall meet to-night in Paradise, and wear the martyr’s 
crown. Kneel now, confess your sins, and pray God’s mercy.’ 
Then the Franks kneeled on the ground while the archbishop 
shrived them clean and blessed them in the name of God. 
And after that he bade them rise, and, for penance, go scourge 
the pagans. 

Eoland ranged his trusty warriors and went to and fro among 
them riding upon his battle-horse Veillantif; by his side his good 
sword Durendal. Small need had he to exhort them in extremity; 
there was not a man but loved him unto death and cheerfully 
would follow where he led. He looked upon the pagan host, and 
his countenance waxed fierce and terrible; he looked upon his 
band, and his face was mild and gentle. He said, ‘ Good comrades, 
lords, and barons, let no man grudge his life to-day, but only see 
he sells it dear. A score of pagans is a poor price for one of us. 
I have promised to render good account of you. I have no fear. 
The battle-field will tell, if we cannot. God knows the issue oi 
the fight, but we know that much glory and worship await us 
upon earth and crowns in Paradise.’ Then he gave the word, 


212 


Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

, Go forward !’ and with his golden spurs pricked Yeillantif. So, 
foremost, he led the rear-guard down the mountain-side, down 
through the pass of Siza into the Valley of Death called lionces- 
valles. Close following came Oliver, Archbishop Turpin, and the 
valiant Twelve; the guard pressing forward with the shout 
‘Montjoy!’ and bearing the snow-white banner of their king 
aloft. 

Marvellous and fierce was the battle. That was a good spear 
Roland bare; for it crashed through fifteen pagan bodies, through 
brass and hide and bone, before the trusty ash brake in his hand, 
or ever he was fain to draw Durendal from its sheath. The 
Twelve did wondrously; nay, every man of the twenty thousand 
fought with lionlike courage; neither counted any man his life 
dear to him. Archbishop Turpin, resting for a moment to get 
fresh breath, cried out, ‘ Thank God to see the rear-guard fight 
to-day !’ then spurred in again among them. Roland saw Oliver 
still fighting with the truncheon of his spear and said, ‘ Comrade, 
draw thy sword,’ but he answered, ‘ Not while a handful of the 
stump remains. Weapons are precious to-day.’ 

For hours they fought, and not a Frank gave way. Whereso¬ 
ever a man planted his foot, he kept the ground or died. The 
guard hewed down the pagans by crowds, till the earth was heaped 
with full two hundred thousand heathen dead. Of those kings 
which banded together by oath to fight him, Roland gave good 
account, for he laid them all dead about him in a ring, and 
Durendal to its hilt reeked blood. But many thousands of the 
Franks were slain, and of the Twelve there now remained but 
two. 

Marsilius looked upon his shattered host and saw them fall 
back in panic, for they were dismayed because of the Franks. 
But Marsilius heard the sound of trumpets from the mountain 
top and a glad man was he; for twenty strong battalions of 
Saracens were come to his help, and these poured down the valley- 
side. Seeing this, the rest of the pagans took heart again, and 
they all massed about the remnant of the guard, and shut them 
in on every hand. Nevertheless Roland and his fast lessening 
band were not dismayed. So marvellously they fought, so many 
thousand pagans hurled they down, making grim jests the while 
as though they played at war for sport, that their enemies were 
ill mortal fear and doubted greatly if numbers would suffice to 
overwhelm these men, for it misgave them whether God’s angels 
were not come down to the battle. But the brave rear-guard 
dwindled away, and Roland scarce dared turn his eyes to see the 


Roland. 


213 


handful that remained. Dead were the Twelve, dead was Duke 
Samson, dead Engeler of Gascoigny, and proud Duke Anseis, 
Gerin, and his companion Gerard, Guise, and Berenger, with all 
the flower of the guard. 

Then Roland spake to Oliver, ‘ Comrade, I will sound my horn, 
if peradventure Charles may hear and come to us.’ But Oliver 
was angry, and answered, ‘ It is now too late. Had’st thou but 
heeded me in time, much weeping might have been spared the 
women of France, Charles should not have lost his guard, nor 
France her valiant Roland.’ ‘ Talk not of what might have been,’ 
said Archbishop Turpin, ‘but blow thy horn. Charles cannot 
come in time to save our lives, but he will certainly come and 
avenge them.’ 

Then Roland put the horn to his mouth and blew a great blast. 
Far up the valley went the sound and smote against the mountain 
tops; tliese flapped it on from ridge to ridge for thirty leagues. 
Charles heard it in his hall and said, ‘ Listen ! what is that 1 
Surely our men do fight to-day.’ But Ganelon answered the 
king : ‘ What folly is tliis I It is only the sighing of the wind 
among the trees.’ 

Weary with battle Roland took the horn again and winded it 
with all his strength. So long and mighty was the blast, the 
veins stood out upon his forehead in great cords; he blew on till 
with the strain his brain-pan brake asunder at the temples. 
Charles heard it in his palace and cried, ‘ Hark ! I hear Roland’s 
horn. He is in battle or he would not sound it.’ Ganelon 
answered, ‘ Too proud is he to sound it in battle. My lord the 
king groweth old and childish in his fears. What if it be Roland’s 
horni He hunteth perchance in the woods. Forsooth a merry 
jest it would be for him were the king to make ready for war and 
gather his thousands, and find Roland at his sport, hunting a 
little hare!’ 

The blood ran fast down Roland’s face, and in sore pain and 
heaviness he lifted the horn to his mouth and feebly winded it 
again. Charles heard it in his palace, and started from his seat; 
the salt tears gathered in his eyes and dropped upon his snowy 
beard; and he said, ‘ 0 Roland, my brave captain, too long have 
I delayed! Thou art in evil need. I know it by the wailing of 
the horn 1 Quick, now, to arms I Make ready, every man! 
For straightway we will go and help him.’ Then he thrust 
Ganelon away, and said to his servants, ‘ Take this man, and bind 
him fast with chains; keep him in ward till I return in peace 
and know if he have wrought us treason.’ So they bound Ganelon 


214 Popular Romances of the Middle A^es, 

and flung him into a dungeon; and Charles the Great and his 
host set out with all speed to come to Roland. 

Fierce with the cruel throbbing of his naked brain, and well- 
nigh blinded with the blood that trickled down his face, Roland 
fought on, and with his good sword Dnrendal slew the pagan 
prince Faldrun and three and twenty redoubtable champions. 
The little company that was left of the brave rear-guard cut down 
great masses of the pagans, and reaped among them as the reapers 
reap at harvest time; but one by one the reapers fell ere yet the 
harvest could be gathered in. Yet where each Frank lay, beside 
him there lay for a sheaf his pile of slain, so any man might see 
how dear he had sold his life. Marganices, the pagan king, 
espied where Oliver was fighting seven abreast, and spurred his 
horse and rode and smote him through the back a mortal wound. 
But Oliver turned and swung his sword Haltclere, and before he 
could triumph clave him through the helmet to his teeth. Yet 
even when the pains of death gat hold on Oliver so that his eyes 
grew dim and he knew no man, he never ceased striking out on 
every side with his sword and calling ‘ Montjoy F Then Roland 
hasted to his help, and cutting the pagans down for a wide space 
about, came to his old companion to lift him from his horse. But 
Oliver struck him a blow that brake the helm to shivers on his 
throbbing head. Nevertheless Roland for all his pain took him 
tenderly down and spake with much gentleness, saying, ‘ Dear 
comrade, I fear me though art in an evil case.’ Oliver said, ‘Thy 
voice is like Rolands voice; but I cannot see thee.’ Roland 
answered, ‘It is I, thy comrade.’ Then he said, ‘Forgive me, 
that I smote thee. It is so dark I cannot see thy face ; give me 
thy hand; God bless thee, Roland; God bless Charles, and 
France ! ’ So saying he fell upon his face and died. 

A heavy-hearted man was Roland ; little recked he for his life 
since Oliver his good comrade was parted from him. Then he 
turned and loo.ked for the famous rear-guard of King Charles the 
Great. 

Only two men were left beside himself. 

Turpin the Archbishop, Count Gaulter, and Roland set them¬ 
selves together with the fixed intent to sell their lives as dearly 
as they might; and when the pagans ran upon them in a multi¬ 
tude with shouts and cries, Roland slew twenty. Count Gaulter 
six, and Turpin five. Then the pagans drew back and gathered 
together all the remnant of their army, forty thousand horsemen 
and a thousand footmen with spears and javelins, and charged 
upon the three. Count Gaulter fell at the first shock. The 


Roland, 


215 


arclibishop’s horse was killed, and he being brought to earth, lay 
there a-dying, with four wounds in his forehead, and four in his 
breast. ^ Yet gat Ronald never a wound in all that fight, albeit 
the brain was parting asunder in his broken temples, and his pain 
M^as very sore. 

Then Roland took the horn and sought to wind it yet again. 
Very feeble was the sound, yet Charles heard it away beyond the 
mountains, where he marched fast to help his guard. And the 
king said, ‘Good barons, great is Roland’s distress; I know it 
by the sighing of the horn. Spare neither spur nor steed for 
Roland’s sake.’ Then he commanded to sound all the clarions 
long and loud: and the mountains tossed the sound from peak 
to peak, so that it was plainly heard down in the Valley of Ron- 
cesvalles. 

The pagans heard the clarions ringing behind the mountains, 
and they said, ‘ These are the clarions of Charles the Great. 
Behold Charles cometh upon us with his host, and we shall have 
to fight the battle again if we remain. Let us rise up and depart 
quickly. There is but one man more to slay,’ Then four hundred 
of the bravest rode at Roland; and he, spurring his weary horse 
against them, strove still to shout ‘ Montjoy ! ’ but could not, for 
voice failed him. And when he was come within spear-cast, 
every pagan flung a spear at him, for they feared to go nigh him, 
and said, ‘There is none born of woman can slay this man.’ 
Stricken with twenty spears, the faithful steed, Veillantif, dropped 
down dead. Roland fell under him, his armour pierced every¬ 
where with spear-points, yet not so much as a scratch upon 
his body. Stunned with the fall he lay there in a swoon. The 
pagans came and looked on him, and gave him up for dead. Then 
they left him and made all speed to flee before Charles should 
come. In haste they gat them up the mountain sides and left 
the gloomy valley piled with dead, and fled away towards Spain. 

Roland lifted his eyes and beheld the pagans filing up the 
mountain passes; and he was left alone among the deal Then 
in great pain he drew his limbs from underneath his horse, and 
gat upon his feet, but scarce could stand for the anguish of his 
brain beating against his temples. He dragged himself about the 
valley, and looked upon his dead friends and comrades. Round 
about each one there lay a full score of pagan corpses, and Ronald 
said, ‘ Charles will see that the guard has done its duty.’ He 
came to where Oliver lay, and he lifted the body tenderly in his 
arms, saying, ‘ Dear comrade, thou wast ever a good and gentle 
friend to me; better warrior brake never a spear, nor wielded 


2 T 6 Popular Romaiices of the Middle Ages. 

sword ; wise wert thou of counsel, ani I repent me that once 
only I hearkened not to thy voice. God rest thy soul! A 
sweeter friend and truer comrade no man ever had than thou.’ 
Then Koland heard a feeble voice, and turned and was ware of 
Archbishop Turpin. Upon the ground he lay a-dying, a piteous 
sight to see ; his face all marred with wounds, his body well-nigh 
hewed in twain, insomuch that his bowels came forth before his 
eyes; howbeit, he raised his trembling hands and blessed the 
brave dead about him in the dear name of God. And when 
Turpin beheld Koland, his eyes were satisfied. He said, ‘ Dear 
Koland, thank God the field is thine and mine. We have fought 
a good fight.’ Then joined he his hands as though he fain would 
pray, and Koland, seeing the archbishop like to faint for the 
sharpiios of his distress, took and dragged himself to a running 
stream that he espied pass through the valley ; and he dipped up 
water in his horn to bring to him, but could not, for he fell upon 
the bank and swooned. And when he came to himself, and 
crawled to where the archbishop lay, he found him with his liands 
still clasped, but having neither thirst nor any pain, for he was at 
rest. A lonesome man in the Valley of Death, Koland wept for 
the last of his friends. 

But the brain began to ooze out from his temples, and his pa*in 
grew very grievous to be borne. And Koland, when he found 
death coming on him, took his sword Durendal in one hand, and 
his horn in the other, and crawled away about a bow-shot to a 
green hillock whereupon four diverse marble steps were built 
beneath the trees. There he lay down in his agony. A certain 
Saracen was plundering there among the dead, and watched till 
Koland ceased to moan in his pain ; then, thinking there was no 
more breath in him, the thief stole softl}'' up, and seeing the 
glitter of the hilt of Durendal, put forth his hand and drew it 
from its sheath. Koland lifted his eyes and saw the thief bend 
over him with the sword in his hand. He seized the horn from 
beside him, and dealt the man a blow upon the crown that brake 
his skull. 

Then he took Durendal into his hands, and prayed that it 
might not fall into the power of his enemies. He said, ‘ O 
Durendal, how keen of edge, how bright of blade thou art ! 
God sent thee by his angel to King Charles, to be his captain’s 
sword. Charles girt thee at my side. How many countries 
thou hast conquered for him in my hands ! O Durendal, though 
it grieves me sore, I had rather break thee than that pagan 
hands should wield thee against France.’ Then he besought 


Roland, 


217 


that God would now eke out his strength to break the sword ; 
and lifting it in his hands he smote mightily upon the topmost 
marble step. The grey stone chipped and splintered, but the 
good blade brake not, neither was its edge turned. He smote 
the second step, which was of sardonyx; the blade bit it, and 
leaped back, but blunted not, nor brake. The third step was of 
grey adamant; he smote it with all his might; the adamant 
powdered where he struck, but the sword brake not, nor lost its 
edge. And when he could no more lift the sword, his heart 
smote him that he had tried to break the holy blade; and he said, 
‘ 0 Durendal, 1 am to blame ; the angels gave thee; they will 
keep thee safe for Charles and France ! ’ 

Then Roland, when he felt death creep upon him, lay down 
and set his face toward Spain and toward his enemies, that men 
should plainly see he fell a conqueror. Beneath him he put 
the sword and horn ; then having made his peace with God, 
he lay a-thinking. He thought of his master Charles who had 
nurtured him from a little child, and his face was all a-glow 
with pride. ‘ He will see that I have rendered good account.’ He 
thought of sweet France and his home that was so dear. He 
thought of his dear maid, Hilda, who would weep and cry for 
him. Very sad and tender grew his heart. Then lifted he his 
weary hands to Heaven and closed his eyes; and whilst he mused 
God sent His swift archangels, Gabriel and Michael, to bear his 
soul to Paradise. 

Gloom fell; the mists went up, and there was only death and 
silence in the valley. The low red sun was setting in the west. 

Charles and his host rode hard, and drew not rein until they 
reached the mountain top, and looked down on the valley of 
Roncesvalles. They blew the clarions, but there was no sound, 
neither any that answered save the ringing mountain sides. 
Then down through gloom and mist they rode, and saw the field; 
saw Roland dead, and Oliver; the archbishop and the twelve 
valiant peers, and every man of the twenty thousand chosen 
guard ; saw how fiercely they had fought, how hard they died. 

There was not one in all the king’s host but lifted up his voice 
and wept for pity at the sight they saw. 

But Charles the King is fallen on his face on Roland’s body, 
with a great and exceeding bitter cry. No word he spake, but 
only lay and moaned upon the dead that was so passing dear to 
him. 

Charles was an old man when he took the babe Roland from 
his mother’s arms. He had brought him up and nourished him, 


218 Popular Romafices of the Middle Ages, 

had taught him war, and watched him grow the bravest knight, 
the staunchest captain of his host. Right gladly would he have 
given Spain and the fruits of all the seven years’ war to have 
Roland back again. Tears came, but brought no words ; and 
God sent sleep to comfort him for his heaviness. And while the 
king slumbered, the angel Gabriel came and strengthened him, 
and showed what should shortly come to pass, and bade him rise 
and follow after the pagans. The king arose and saw that the 
low red sun was not yet set; for God made a miracle in the fir¬ 
mament, so that the sun stood still in the heavens, and went not 
down till he was avenged of his enemies. Duke Naymes said, 

‘ Coming down the pass I saw a cloud of dust across the moun¬ 
tains on the other side. That was the pagan host fleeing to 
Zaragoz.’ Then having watered and pastured their horses, 
the king left four good knights in Roncesvalles to guard the 
dead from birds and beasts of prey, and set out in chase of the 
pagans. 

In the Vale of Tenebrus the Franks overtook them, hard by 
the broad, swift river Ebro. There being hemmed in, the river 
in front and the fierce Franks behind, the pagans were cut to 
pieces ; not one escaped, save Marsilius and a little band W’ho 
had taken another way and got safe to Zaragoz. Thence Marsi¬ 
lius sent letters to Baligant, King of Babylon, who ruled forty 
kingdoms, praying him to come over and help him. And Bali¬ 
gant gathered a mighty great army and put off to gea to come to 
Marsilius. 

But King Charles went straightway back to Roncesvalles to 
bury the dead. He summoned thither his bishops and abbots 
and canons to say mass for the souls of his guard and to burn 
incense of myrrh and antimony round about. But he would by 
no means lay Roland and Oliver and Turpin in the earth. 
Wherefore he caused their bodies to be embalmed and washed 
with wine and piment, that he might have them ever before his 
eyes; and he arrayed them in stuffs of great price and laid them 
in three coffins of white marble, and chose out the three richest 
chariots that he had and placed the coffins in them, that they 
might go with him whithersoever he went. 

Now after this Marsilius and Baligant came out to battle with 
King Charles before the walls of Zaragoz. But the king utterly 
destroyed the pagans there and slew King Baligant and King 
!Marsilius, and brake down the gates of Zaragoz and took the 
city. So he conquered Spain and avenged himself for Roland 
and his guard. 


Roland, 


219 


But when King Charles would go back again to France his 
heart grew exceeding heavy. He said, ‘ 0 Eoland, my good 
friend, I have no more pleasure in this land which we have con¬ 
quered. When I come again to Laon, to my palace, and men 
ask tidings, they will bear how many cities and kingdoms we 
have taken; but no man will rejoice. They will say, Conuti 
Eoland our good Captain is dead, and great sadness will fall en 
all the realm. O Eoland, my friend, when I come again to 
Aachen, to my chapel, and men ask tidings, they will hear that 
we have won a land and last the best captain in all France ; and 
they will weep and mourn, and say the war has been in vain. O 
Eoland, my friend, would God that I had died for thee !’ 

Now when the people of France heard how King Charles the 
Great returned victorious, they gathered together in great multi¬ 
tudes to welcome him. And when Hilda, the fair maid whom 
Eoland loved, heard it, she arrayed herself in her richest apparel 
and tired her hair with eager pains, and proudly decked herself 
with her jewels. For she said, ‘ I would be pleasing in the eyes 
of my brave true captain who comes home to wed with me. To¬ 
day I am his bride ! There is no gladder heart in France than 
mine. Who will not envy me, the bride of the brave captain 
whose name will be on every lip to-day 1 ’ Then she hasted and 
came merrily to the palace. And the king’s guards all drew back 
for fear and let her pass, for they dared not speak a word to her. 
Eight proudly walked she through them, for she thought, ‘ This 
honour is all for Eoland’s sakeand proudly came she to the 
king, saying—‘ Eoland, the captain of the host, where is he ? 
Seven long years have I waited, so patiently, while he fought the 
battles of the king. I never murmured; no, I am too proud of 
him and of France and of the king. But to-day he is mine. 
The king wall give him to me to-day.’ 

And Charles feared exceedingly and scarce could see for tears. 
He said, ‘ Dear sister, sweet friend, am I God that 1 can bring 
the dead back ? Eoland my nephew is dead; Eoland my captain 
and my friend is dead. Nay, take time and mourn with us all, 
and when thy heart is healed I will give thee Ludwig mine own 
son, who will sit after me upon the throne. Take Ludwig in his 
stead.’ 

But God is kind : He takes the broken-hearted home. 

Hilda cried not, nor uttered sound. The colour faded from her 
face, and straightway she fell dead at the king’s feet. 

Charles and his barons wept for pity at her doleful case : and 
tlie king came down from his throne and lifted the maiden in hi? 


220 


Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

arms and laid her head upon his shoulder. And when he found 
of a truth that death had taken the gentle maid, he called four 
countesses and bade them see that she was interred right wor- 
shipfully. They made a noble bier and lifted Hilda thereupon 
and bore her to a nunnery. They set it in the midst of the 
chancel, that so she might lie there in her robes and jewels as she 
died; and all that night they sang sweet masses for her soul’s 
good rest. At prime they buried her beneath the altar pave¬ 
ment. 

It is written in the old chronicle, that after these things 
Charles sent and summoned many men from many lands to 
come and try if Ganelon had done him a treason or no ; for the 
twenty thousand who were betrayed being dead and the pagans 
utterly destroyed, there was none left to bear witness against him. 
So the king sent and fetched Ganelon up out of prison and set him 
on his trial. Howbeit Ganelon contrived to get thirty of his kins¬ 
folk chosen among his judges, and chief of them Pinabel, a man 
of great stature and strength of limb. Moreover, Pinabel was a 
ready man to pick a quarrel with any ; a man cunning of tongue 
and very rich and powerful, so that people feared him greatly. 
These thirty Ganelon bribed, with part of the price he took from 
King Marsilius for the treason, to give judgment for him. Then 
Pinabel and the others went to and fro among the judges and 
persuaded them, saying—‘ AVe have no witnesses, only Ganelon 
himself, and what saith he 1 He owns he hated Poland, and for 
that cause he challenged Roland, in presence of the king and all 
his court, to fight when he returned from his mission. The open 
challenger is not the betrayer in secret. Moreover, had he done 
this thing, would Ganelon have come back again to King 
Charles 'I Besides, would any man betray an army of his friends 
to rid himself of a single enemy 1 Blood enough has been shed. 
Slaying Ganelon will not bring Roland back. The Franks are 
angry since they have lost their captain, and blindly clamour for 
a victim. Heed not their foolish cry, for Ganelon has done no 
treason.’ To this the others all agreed, save Tierry, the son of 
Duke Geoffrey; and he would not. 

The judges came to King Charles and said, ‘ We find that 
Ganelon has done nothing worthy of death. Let him live and 
take anew the oath of fealty to France and the king.’ Then the 
king was grieved, and said, ‘ It misgives me you have played 
me false. In my esteem the judgment is not just. Nevertheless, 
it is judgment: only God can alter it.’ 

Then stepped forth the youth Tierry, Geoffrey’s son. He was 


Roland. 


221 


but a lad, very little and slender of body, and slight of limb. 
And he said, ‘ Let not the king be sad. I Tierry do impeach 
Ganelon as a felon and a traitor who, betrayed Itoland and the 
rear-guard to the pagans, and I also say that thirty of Ganelon’s 
kinsfolk have wrought treason and corrupted judgment. And 
this will I maintain with my sword, and prove upon the body of 
any man who will come to defend him or them.' Thereto to 
pledge himself he drew off his right glove and gave it to the king 
for a gage. 

Pinabel strode forward, a giant among the throng. Be looked 
down upon the lad Tierry and despised him; he came to the king 
and gave his glove, saying, ‘ I will fight this battle to the death.' 
The hVaiiks pitied Tierry and feared for him, for they had hoped 
Naymes or Olger or some mighty champion would have under¬ 
taken the cause, and not a stripling. But Charles the King said, 
‘ God will show the right.’ So they made ready the lists for the 
wager of battle; and the king commanded Ganelon and his thirty 
kinsmen to be held in pledge against the issue. 

The battle was done in a green meadow near to Aachen in 
presence of the king and his barons and a great multitude of 
people. First the men rode together and tilted till their spears 
brake and the saddle-girths gave way; then they left their steeds 
and fought on foot. Tierry was wondrous quick and agile, and 
wearied Pinabel at the outset by his swift sword-play; but Tierry’s 
hand was weak against his sturdy adversary, and his sword point 
pierced not mail nor shield. Pinabel clave his helm and hewed 
great pieces off his mail, but could not slay him. Then said 
Pinabel, ^ Fool, why should I kill thee ? Give up the battle and 
the cause, and I will be thy man henceforth in faith and fealty. 
It shall prove greatly for thy profit to reconcile Ganelon and the 
king.’ 

Tierry answered, ^ I will not parley; God will surely show 
whether of us twain be right! Guard thyself.’ So they fell to 
again and all men saw that nothing would now part them till one 
was dead ; and straightway they gave the lad Tierry up for lost. 
Pinabel’s sword was heavy, and great the strength of his arm. 
lie smote Tierry a blow upon the helm that sliced off visor and 
ventailles and with it the youth’s right cheek. But while his 
blood ran down upon the grass, Tierry lifted up his sword and 
struck the brown steel helm of Pinabel. God put His might into 
the young man’s arm, for the blade cleft steel and skull, and 
entered Pinabel’s brain, so that he reeled and dropped down dead. 
Then all the people shouted, ‘ God hath spoken ! Away with 
Ganelon and his fellows !’ 


2 2 2 Popular Romarces of the Middle Ages, 

Then King Charles raised up his hands to heaven and gave 
thanks, and taking Tierry in his arms embraced him for joy, and 
with his own hands took off his armour, and he set the noblest in 
the land to tend his wounds. 

King Charles sat in judgment in his palace at Aachen. He 
said, ‘ Take the thirty kinsmen of Ganelon, perverters of justice, 
let not one escape, and hang them.’ Blithely the Franks obeyed 
his word. 

Then the king commanded four horses to be brought. And 
they tied ropes round Ganelon’s wrists and ankles, and harnessed 
the horses to them. The traitor lay and whined and begged for 
life with tears and promises and cries. But the very steeds 
arched up their necks in pride to do a pleasant work. No whip 
they needed, but only to be loosed, and quick they tare the traitor 
limb from limb upon the grass. So died Ganelon as he lived, a 
coward. Thus Charles the King made an end of his vengeance 
for his guard. 

Now after these things were accomplished, and when Charles 
was grown very old and decrepit and the years fell heavy on him, 
the angel Gabriel came to the king as he slept, saying, ‘Arise 
and go into Syria to succour King Vivian, for the pagans do hard 
beset him !’ Charles sat up in his bed and sighed, ‘Have pity 
on thy servant! So weary is my life; and I would fain go home 
to God.’ 

The old king wept and feebly plucked his snowy beard. 

This is the gest which Turold used to sing. 

When William the Norman fought at Hastings, Taillefer his 
minstrel, who sang full well, rode on before the Norman host and 
sang of Roland and Great Charles—of Oliver and the brave rear¬ 
guard which fell in Roncesvallea. 


(DI g c r the Jl a n e. 


There was weeping in the palace of Godfrey King of Denmark; 
for the queen whom he dearly loved had died in giving birth to 
a son; and all the people mourned, both high and low; for she 
was a good queen, beautiful and royal among the noble ladies of 
the court and kind and tender to the poor. They took the babe 
from his dead mother’s arms at midnight, and having named him 
Olger, carried him into another chamber and laid him on a richly 
quilted bed of down. Presently there was a gentle rustling in 
the room, and lo ! there appeared about the bed six shining 
fairies whose beauty was so awful and so wonderful that none 
but a child might gaze upon them without fear. One of the 
fairies, named Glorian, drawing near took the boy in her arms 
and kissed him, saying, ‘I give you to be the strongest and 
bravest knight of all your time.’ Another, called Palestina, said, 
‘And I will always give you battles to fight.’ Faramond, the 
third fairy, said, ‘ No man shall ever conquer him.’ And Meliora 
gave him ‘to be always sweet and gentle;’ and Pristina, ‘that 
he should be dear to all women, and happy in his love.’ Then 
Morgan le Fay, which was queen of them all, took the child and 
held him long against her breast for the great love she bare him. 
She said, ‘ Sweet one, there scarce remains a gift for me to give 
you after all my sisters have promised, yet I give you this : that 
you shall never die, but after you have lived a life of glory on the 
earth you shall be mine, and I will bring you home to dwell with 
me for ever in Avalon, the land of Faery.’ And the lady having 
kissed him many times put the child back upon the bed; and all 
the fairies fled away into the air and the room was dark again. 

Olger grew up a brave child, tall, and strong in his limbs and 
very comely, so that when he was ten years old there was none 
like him for beauty and strength, for Nature seemed to have 
lavished all her treasures on him. 

Now Godfrey King of Denmark was a bold and haughty 
prince who stood in fear of no man, and it befell when messen¬ 
gers came from France summoning him to do homage to the 
emperor Charles the Great for his lands, that Godfrey returned 


2 24 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

for answer, ^ Tell Charles I hold my lands of God and my good 
sword, and if he doubt it let him come and see. I will not do 
him homage.’ Wherefore Charles came up against him with a 
mighty army, and after a long and stout resistance King Godfrey 
being defeated was obliged to premise to appear before the em¬ 
peror every Easter and pay his allegiance. As a pledge that he 
would keep his word, the emperor required him to give up Olger 
liis son for a hostage. To this Godfrey having agreed, Olger 
was carried away to the emperor’s court, where he was instructed 
in all the arts of the time; and the emperor was very glad to 
have so fearless and handsome a youth in his retinue. 

For three years the King of Denmark came faithfully to pay 
his court as he had promised, but in the fourth year Eastertide 
went by and Godfrey did not come; the truth being that he was 
married again and had another son, and the new queen wrought 
upon her husband’s pride, persuading him not to humble himself 
any more before King Charles ; for she thought, ‘ When the em¬ 
peror finds-he no longer pays homage Olger surely will be put to 
death, and so my son shall inherit the throne of Denmark.’ As 
his father did not redeem his word Olger was committed to 
prison in the Castle of St Omer to wait while messengers w^ent 
to Godfrey to find the reason of his breaking faith. But Olger 
was kindly treated by the castle-keeper, for he found favour in 
the eyes of his wife, and especially in those of Bellisande, his 
fair daughter, who loved him from the moment that she saw him. 
So instead of being cast into the dungeon, Olger was placed in 
the best apartments of the castle, richly hung with tapestry, and 
was waited upon like a prince; and Bellisande could no more 
keep her eyes from regarding him or her heart from going out to¬ 
wards him than the lily can help holding its cups out to get their 
fill of sunshine. 

But Godfrey of Denmark entreated the messengers shamefully. 
He slit their ears and noses, shaved their heads, and sent them 
home disgraced. Wherefore these men returned to their master, 
and coming before Charles all marred and disfigured as they were, 
cried loudly for vengeance against Godfrey and against his son 
Olger that was held as hostage. The emperor then sent orders 
to the castle to slay Olger instantly ; but the kind-hearted castle- 
keeper begged that at least the lad might first be brought before 
him and told why, innocent, he yet must suffer death. So, being 
brought to the emperor at a time when he feasted among his 
nobles, Olger came with much gentleness and kneeled meekly at 
his feet. Seeing the lad thus abase himself for his father’s pride, 


225 


Olger the Da7ie, 

the emperor was moved with pity, and would fain have spared 
his life ; but tlie messengers cried out for vengeance, and would 
have fallen on him themselves had not Duke Maymes of Bayiere 
pleaded for the boy and kept them back. Then Olger said, 
‘ Sire, you know that I am innocent of blame, having always 
rendered you obedience. Let me not suffer for my father’s fault; 
but seeing I am his true heir, deign to receivp from me the vas¬ 
salage and homage he denies,—that by a life of service in your 
cause I may atone for him. As for your noble messengers, so 
cruelly ill-used, I will seek from this hour to repair their disgrace 
and take upon me to atone for all my father’s misdeeds against 
them and you, if you but spare my life and use it in your 
service.’ 

Now while the barons interceded for the lad, a knight rode up 
the hall in haste. ‘Tidings, King Charles !’ he cried,—‘ evil tidings, 
alas ! The Soudan and the Grand Turk Corsuble, and Danne- 
mont his son, with King Caraheu have taken Borne by assault. 
Ovand the Pope, the cardinals and legates, all have lied; the 
churches are destroyed; the holy relics lost, all save the body of 
St. Peter ; and the Christians put to the sword. Wherefore the 
Holy Father charges you as Christian king and pillar of the faith 
to march to succour of the Church !’ 

Then Duke Naymes of Bayiere prayed to take Olger as his 
squire into the battle, offering to go bail for him in all his lands 
and hold himself a prisoner in his stead, if the lad should flee. 
Thereto the emperor having consented, straightway prepared his 
army for battle, swearing by his sceptre that he would never re¬ 
turn till Borne should be restored to the Christians. But Olger 
first went back to the castle and wedded the beautiful Bellisande. 
When she wept at his departure, Olger said, ‘ Leave these tears, 
for God has given me life and you have given me love; gifts that 
will strengthen me to do great deeds of arms.’ So he rode off 
with the host, with Naymes and his two brothers Geoffrey and 
Gautier; and they journeyed till they came to Borne and en¬ 
camped upon a hill before the city walls with an army of two 
hundred thousand men. 

Now the Paynim host came out from Borne to fight the Franks 
upon the plain. Olger, bewildered and amazed to see the great 
crowds of knights in glittering armour, and the banners, and to 
hear for the first time the din of war, would hiin have gone with 
Naymes and his brothers into the fight; but they forbade him, 
charging him to remain among the tents. 

Looking down upon the battle from the hill, Olger watched 

p 


2 26 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

the hosts and tracked the standard of King Charles as it moved 
to the front. He saw the armies come together with a shout 
and join in battle with a noise that rent the air. But in a 
little while the standard wavered; then it fell, then rose 
again; and then he saw King Charles’s own company of knights 
repulsed, while Sir Alory that hare the standard turned and fled 
for very life upon his horse. Seizing a battle-axe Olger ran down 
into the plain, caught the bridle of Alory’s horse, and smote 
down the standard-bearer in his flight, saying, ‘ Coward, go home 
with all the speed you may ! Live among monks and women 
there. But leave the noble banner. Refuge of France, with me !’ 
Olger quickly disarmed the frightened and trembling Alory, got 
a squire to dress him in the standard bearer’s armour, leapt on a 
horse, and sword at breast, banner in hand, galloped to the battle 
wdth the fierceness of a lion, hewed his way through the Paynim 
to the thickest of the fight, and finding Kaymes and many nobles 
held prisoners behind the pagan ranks, cut his way through to 
them, loosed their bonds, and cut a road back again for him and 
them. Wherever he went about the field Olger reaped among 
the enemy till he ramparted himself within a wall of slain. 
Hearing the king cry out for help, he leapt his steed out from a 
wall of dead and spurred to wliere he was. The king was 
down, Dauneniont had killed his horse under him and pressed 
him sore on every side. But Olger, though he had but one fight¬ 
ing hand, since he bare the standard in the other, rode upon the 
Paynim and quickly carved out a clear space about the king 
while he mounted a fresh horse. And in like manner three 
times he saved the life of Charles. Then with Olger and the 
standard at their head the king and all his host shouting their 
battle-cry, ‘Montjoy!’ charged on the Paynim, routed them, 
and drove them to the city gates. 

After this King Charles commanded the standard-bearer to be 
brought before him; but he wist not it was Olger in Alory’s 
armour, for his visor was down. Then said the emperor, ‘ Alory, 
I thank you heartily for this day’s work, and though I know not 
what should have made you flee at the outset, you have redeemed 
your honour nobly. I cannot tell how to reward you. Choose 
any province in my kingdom and I will make j^ou ruler of it; 
and you shall be my lieutenant to do battle for me in all dis¬ 
putes touching the crown of France, 0 brave and fearless Alory 1’ 
And he wept for joy that God had sent him such a champion. 
But a squire that stood by, being surj)rised to hear the king 
speak thus of Alory, said, ‘ Sire, he is not on the field. Alory 


227 


Olger the Dane. 

bowed the colours and fled at the first to save his skin, whilst as 
for this knight, who seized the standard from A lory’s hands, I 
helped to dress him in Alory’s armour, hut I wot not who he is.’ 
Then Olger lifted his helmet, and kneeling to the king said, 
‘ Have pity, sire, on Godfrey King of Denmark, and let his son 
atone for his offence and be your faithful vassal in his stead.’ 
And the king answered, ‘ You have altogether turned into love 
the anger which I bare against you and your father. I give you 
your request. Wherefore rise Sir Olger, Champion for France 
and Charles, and God be with you.’ Thus Olger received the 
accolade upon the battle-field, and all the peers of France came 
to salute him and to render thanks for their deliverance. Then, 
flushed with his new-made knighthood. Sir Olger sped like an 
arrow against the foe and fought with a courage surmounting 
mortal fear. Bearing the standard aloft he made it terrible to 
the enemy, insomuch that the Paynirn withdrew the length of a 
bowshot before the wind of his sword and the trampling of his 
steed. And wheresoever the Franks fell in disorder, or wavering 
turned to flee, a knight upon a great horse would surely ride 
into their midst and do such mighty deeds that they turned to 
see for very wonderment, and scarce believed him mortal, till 
knowing their brave champion, they would cry with a great 
shout ‘ Olger the Dane! ’ and fearless in his company, charge 
mightily upon the foe. 

Sadonne rode from the Paynirn camp to bid Dannemont hold 
the field, since Caraheu, Emperor of India, with thirty kings, 
was coming to his help. He met the Paynirn army coming to¬ 
wards him in full flight, crying out in panic—‘ Save yourselves, 
for Michael the Archangel fights against us !’ 

And he saw the terrible knight on the tall horse, and threw 
down his arms aiivi begged for life. 

‘ Who are you, that I should grant it P said Sir Olger. 

He answered, ‘ My master is Caraheu, Emperor of Upper 
India, and I am Sadonne, his admiral, cousin to King Corsuble.’ 

Then said Sir Olger, ‘ I grant your life on one condition : bear 
Caraheu my challenge to fight with me in single combat, and so 
determine all the issue of the war.’ 

Next day came Caraheu with a stately retinue to the pavilion 
of King Charles, bearing in his train the beauteous Gloriande, 
CorsLible’s daughter, the fairest woman of the East. Her hair 
flowed in a golden shower to her feet, and a jewelled circle of 
rare workmanship bound it about her temples. She wore a dress 
of pure white damask sewn with pearls, a wonder of the weaver's 
art, which took nine years to weave. 


228 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then said Caraheu the Emperor—‘ I seek Olger the Dane, 
who has demanded single combat. I accept his challenge, 
and I bring fair Gloriande, my promised bride, a noble prize for 
victory.’ 

But the son of King Charles, Chariot, being envious of Sir 
Olger, said, ‘ It is not meet, great Caraheu, that you should 
battle with my father’s bondsman, but rather with me.’ 

Caraheu answered, I fight not braggarts, but men. Sir Olger 
is a king of men, far nobler than a mere king of land.’ 

‘ Noble enemy,’ answered Olger, ‘ your words make me grieve 
to fight against you rather than at your side. Yet Chariot is the 
emperor’s son, and worthy to joust with the bravest.’ 

‘ He shall tourney with Sadonne, my admiral,’ said Caraheu, 
‘but I will fight with you alone.’ 

Thus a double combat was arranged, and they went to an isle 
to fight, and Gloriande with them, that her eyes might strengthen 
them to battle for such a prize. But Dannemont the Paynim 
treacherously hid three hundred men among the bushes to lie in 
wait. Caraheu’s shield bore, on a field argent, four bands azure 
with the figure of Mahound upon a scutcheon gules. Sir Olger’s 
shield was white with a black eagle thereupon. Bravely they fought 
for half a day, and long the victory seemed to waver between 
these two redoubtable champions. Meanwhile Sadonne killed 
Chariot’s horse, and then honourably dismounted from his own to 
fight on equal terms; but Chariot made a feint of fighting till he 
brought himself to where Sadonne’s steed was ; then leaping on 
it, basely fled. 

Caraheu’s good sword, Courtain, of marvellous temper, cut 
through Olger’s shield and armour. Nevertheless at last the 
Dane by great strength bore Caraheu to the ground, and got him 
at his mercy; but still he admired the Indian monarch’s courtesy 
and courage so much that he would not slay him. Then Danne¬ 
mont with Corsuble and his men seeing their champion dpwn, 
rushed from their hiding place and assailed Sir Olger; whereat 
(’araheu, being very wroth at their treachery, fought beside Sir 
Olger, crying, ‘ Traitors, better death than shame like this ! ’ So 
the enemies of an hour before became brothers in arms for 
honour’s sake, and between them slew a hundred of their common 
foes. Howbeit they were overpowered by numbers, and Sir 
Olger owed his life to Gloriande’s pleading. He was led away 
to prison loaded with chains. In vain did Dannemont and Cor- 
«uble seek to reconcile Caraheu, their great ally, to their treason¬ 
able act. Caraheu, though he had to leave Gloriande whom he 


229 


Olger the Dane, 

loved, went over with all his host to King Charles, and joined 
with him to gain redress from the Paynim for Olger’s seizure. 

But Gloriande came secretly to Olger in his prison, loosed his 
chains, and set him free. So he escaped to King Charles and 
Caraheii. After that together they fought the Paynim till they 
discomfited them ; and Rome being freed, the Pope returned to 
the city with his cardinals and legates, and Holy Church was 
stahlished firm again. Olger with his own hand rescued Glori- 
ande, and gave her into Caraheu’s hands to be his wife. So they 
were wed and baptised in Rome; and the Indian emperor re¬ 
turned to his empire a Christian, with a Christian wife. But 
first he gave Sir Olger the famed Damascus sword, Courtain, say¬ 
ing, ‘ You conquered me in fight and won my life and also my 
bride, and yet you gave both back to me. Take therefore this 
sword, offered in friendly homage, as a pledge that I owe you all’ 

Then Olger came to France with King Charles, alid found his 
wife had died in giving birth to a son named Baldwin. And 
Baldwin was dear to Olger, and the child’s prattle very grateful 
to his ears for Bellisande’s sweet sake. 

Now the Paynim had come down on Denmark, seizing on all 
the land save only Mayence, where King Godfrey was besieged 
and suffered famine. And the queen said, ‘ Surely this misery is 
come on us for Olger’s sake whom we abandoned.’ And being 
brought very low with hunger and distress, at last they wrote a 
letter to King Charles, praying him to overlook the past, and in 
pity send them succour lest they die. But Charles said coldly, 
‘ Nay—since Godfrey holds his lands of God and his good sword, 
let him hold them. I will not raise a finger for his help;’ and 
straitly forbade that any knight about his court should go to suc¬ 
cour them on pain of death. Then turning to Olger he said— 
‘ You would not wish to aid a traitor who has thrown off my 
yoke, insulted me, and who, moreover, left you selfishly to suffer 
for his crimes ? ’ But Olger bending before Charles Ihe King, 
answered—‘ Sire, I kneel as vassal to my king, but Godfrey is 
my father and I go. The king will not forbid a son his duty.’ 

Then said Charles, ‘ Go—but go alone, saving your own ser¬ 
vants. Mine shall not fight in a rebel’s cause.’ 

So Olger hastened to Mayence with only thirty of his servants. 
And when he reached the city walls he found a battle raging; 
for King Godfrey had made a desperate sally against his enemies 
and thrown them into disorder, but was fallen in the fray pierced 
with many wounds, and the Danes were fighting for his lileless 
body. Olger with his little band rode into the battle with hia 


230 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

sword Courtain, and where lie passed he left a lane hedged up 
with bodies upon either side, whilst the Danes, rejoicing at so 
good a succour, with his help put the Paynims to the rout, nor 
ceased pursuit till all their enemies were either slain or driven 
from the land. 80 Olger was made King of Denmark in his 
father’s stead, and remained five years in that country till he had 
founded a wise government and made good laws for the people. 
Then he returned to France and came kneeling to the emperor 
at Eastertide, saying, ‘Godfrey’s son, of his own free will, thus 
pays his homage to King Charles for all the land of Denmark.^ 
So he grew in greater favour than ever with the emperor. 

One day Baldwin, his son, now grown a pretty, fair-haired boy 
and general favourite, played chess with Chariot, whom, having 
fool’s-mated, he bantered on the game. The prince, ever jealous 
of the father, and now stung by the son’s playful triumph, flew in 
a passion, and with the heavy chess-board beat out his brains. 

Bitterly Olger wept when he returned from hunting, to And 
the son he left so full of life and frolic but an hour before, struck 
dowm by a murderer’s hand. Taking the body in his arms, and 
co\ ering it with tears and kisses, he came to King Charles and 
laid it at his feet. 

‘ Sire,’ said he, ‘ look upon your son’s foul work.’ 

‘ Truly,’ answered the emperor, ‘ I grieve for you. Sir Olger, 
and would give half my kingdom.to blot out the deed. But there 
is no repayment for so great a loss.’ Said Olger, ‘ There is no 
repayment, but there is punishment; and I demand to fight with 
your son to avenge my poor boy’s death.’ 

‘ Nay, Olger, have pity; ’ said the emperor, ‘ spare my son. 
How could he fight with you and have a bare chance of his lifel ’ 

‘ What of that ] ’ returned the knight bitterly. ‘ Would he 
have more chance with the headsman if he met his rightful doom 
upon the public block 1 What is your son more than mine 1 
Deliver him to me.’ 

‘ I cannot,’ answered the king. 

‘Then, sire, till you learn justice we will part’—and Olger 
turned upon his heel and left the court, and came to Didier, King 
of Lombardy, who made war against King Charles, and fought 
for him. 

It was in Lombardy that Olger got his faithful squire Benoist, 
a steadfast knight, who held his life cheap in his master’s cause. 
Followed only by Benoist, Sir Olger battled long upon the Lom¬ 
bard side against King Chai les and his host. VVTiere men Vvould 
send a troop to reinforce a flagging portion of the army. Sir Olger 


Olger the Dane, 231 

and his squire rode forth alone. Wherever went the black eagle 
on the argent shield, the Lombards rallied, and the Franks fell 
back in terror; .for a line of slain was the war-track of the Dane, 
and where men massed the thickest there he rode and made them 
fall like ripened sheaves before his sword Courtain. All the 
Franks feared to see their champion thus arrayed against them, 
and murmured loudly against the king for letting him depart. 

It was a long warfare, wherein the Lombards fought their way 
on from place to place; and the Franks, being always worsted 
before the mighty Dane, schemed how they might take him by 
subtlety. Archbishop Turpin with a little band of men came on 
him by a fountain lying wearily asleep after a battle, his arms 
flung here and there upon the grass, and his great black charger 
Broiefort turned loose to graze. One seized his helm, another 
his sword Courtain, while others bare away his lance and shield, 
and bound him, while he still slept heavily from great'fatigue. 

King Charles would have slain Olger, both because he fought 
against him, beating down the flower of his chivalry, and because 
he feared his vengeance against Chariot his son. But Archbishop 
Turpin said, ‘ Nay—it was for the sake of France and Christen¬ 
dom I lent myself to surprise in bonds the noblest knight that 
ever wielded sword; but for the sake of France and Christendom 
his life must not be lost. Howbeit since I took him, let me 
guard him safe in prison so he may do no further hurt against 
the cause, and I will be his bond.’ Then Turpin took Olger to 
his castle, where he treated him with great kindness, holding 
him prisoner only on parole. 

Now Achar, King of England, landed in France with Clarice 
his daughter to do homage for his crown to the emperor; but 
Bruhier, a Saracen giant, with a mighty army coming to make 
war on France, seized them before they could reach the court, 
and marched to battle against Charles. 

Long time they fought, but Charles’s army was put to the 
worse amd fled before the giant and his host, till fearing any 
more to go against the Saracens, the Franks called on the emperor 
to send for Olger the Dane from his prison. So he went himself 
and intreated him to come to their succour. But Olger would 
not until the emperor should first deliver up his son Chariot into 
his hand. This for a long time he would not do, but at last his 
army clamoured at him, saying, ‘ Have you no care nor thought 
for us that we die by thousands in a hopeless fight % What is 
one life to thousands 1 ’ So Charles was fain to give up his son. 
Chariot begged in vain for mercy, for Olger remembered but his 


232 Popular Romances of the Middle A^es. 

fair-haired child and how his life was cruelly beaten out. So 
taking the prince by the hair he drew Courtain and raised his 
arm to strike. Then a voice fell from the sky and the place 
was lightened round about, ‘ Olger, stay thy hand ! Slay not 
the son of the king! ’ All heard the voice and feared greatly, 
and Olger’s hand fell to his side without striking. Then Charles 
embraced him and rendered thanks to Olger. ‘ Thank heaven, 
not me,’ said the Dane, ‘ I do but bow to its will.’ So they were 
made friends. 

Then Olger grieved for his sword Courtain and his good horse 
Broiefort, and said he would not go out to battle till these were 
restored to him. Archbishop Turpin brought the sword, which 
had been carefully preserved, but the horse had not been seen for 
seven years, and was believed to be dead. Then the emperor 
sent for his own charger, but Olger, by leaning on the crupper, 
broke the horse’s back; and ten other of the best horses that 
could be found fell beneath the burly knight as he mounted them. 
Then Olger said he must go afoot. But a certain canon said he 
had seen the horse Broiefort dragging blocks of stone for the 
Abbey of St Meaux ; and Duke Naymes and Archbishop Turpin 
went with a retinue to beg the horse back. They found him a 
mere skeleton, with the hair worn off his flanks, his tail shorn to 
the stump, his skin galled by the shafts, yet drawing a load such 
as four horses could not move. But when they brought him to 
Olger, the knight leaned upon his crupper, and the good horse 
yielded not, but strengthened himself to the weight, and re¬ 
membering his master he neighed and snorted with joy, and 
scratched with his feet, and lay down humbly before him, till 
Olger and Charles and all the barony wept at the sight. 

Then Olger went to battle against Bruhicr, and with him for 
their champion the Franks had no fear. Victory followed where 
he led. Sometimes, amazed, both friends and foes paused in the 
midst of conflict, wonderstruck to see his valiant deeds. He 
routed the Saracens and slew the giant Bruhier, and rescued the 
Princess Clarice, whom her father gave to Olger for his wife. So 
they were wed and went to England, where Achar gave up his • 
crown to his deliverer, and made him King of Britain. But in 
one of his battles his faithful horse Broiefort was killed under 
him, and Olger grieved for him for the rest of his life, even as he 
had grieved for his son Baldwin. Olger reigned in Britain many 
years with his wife Clarice, till, being tired of peace, he went 
and fought the battles of the Cross in Palestine. There Caraheu 
tlie emperor joined him, and they overthrew King Moysant, and 


233 


Olger the Dane. 

the Soudan Moradin and his brother Branquemond; none could 
stand against the spear of the knight on the great horse who bore 
the black-eagle shield. There Olger fought till he grew old and 
grey; yet waxed not his arm feeble, nor wearied he in fight; 
men still fell thick before his sword Courtain, and where he went 
still panic spread among his foes, and fearless courage filled the 
breasts of all his friends. He took Acre, Babylon, and Jerusalem, 
of all which cities he was made king; but he gave them to his 
kinsmen to rule in his stead, for he would fain see Charles the 
Great and his court again. So with a mighty retinue and 
accompanied by Caraheu and a fleet of vessels he set sail for 
France. 

But a storm came down upon the sea and drave the ships 
hither and thither, at mercy of wind and wave, till they were 
parted one from another; and Olger’s vessel, mast, oars, and sail 
being carried away, was driven far out of its course into strange 
seas, where an unseen current drew it swiftly through the billowy 
foam and crashed the ship at last against a reef of loadstone rock. 
The mariners all leaped overboard, seeking in vain to climb the 
slippery rocks: the angry surf whirled the strong swimmers up 
and beat them lifeless on the reef. Sir Olger stood alone at night 
upon the sinking ship, looking out on the black tempest and the 
hurtling sea. He bared his head and drew his sword Courtain, 
which having kissed upon the hilt, he offered thanks to heaven 
for the might and courage granted him through life; then with 
an unblenched cheek awaited death. 

Presently he heard a voice in the air cry, * Olger, I wait for 
thee. Fear not the waves, but come!’ Then he cast himself 
into the sea, and a great wave bore him on its crest high up in 
air and placed him safely on the rocks. A strange light showed 
a narrow pathway among the crags, which Olger followed, walking 
towards the brightness till he reached a shining palace, invisible 
by day, but which at night glows into mortal ken—a palace of 
ivory and gold and ebony, glorious to behold, its halls made fair 
with imagery—and therein was set a banquet of most rare and 
dainty meats. Hone dwelt within this palace save a fairy horse, 
named Papillon, who motioned Olger to the banquet, and having 
brought water in a golden ewer that he might cleanse his hands, 
served humbly beside the knight at table till he had finished his 
repast. Then Papillon carried him to a bed whose pillars held 
golden candlesticks wherein tall tapers burned through the night. 
There Olger slept. But in the morning when he woke the palace 
had waned away in the dawn, and he was lying in a garden where 


234 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

tlie trees are always green, and the flowers fade not, and the 
summer never dies; where the sun goes not down, and the soft 
sweet sky is never darkened with storm; a garden in the Vale of 
Avalon, the land of Faery. And whilst his eyes were yet dazzled 
in wonderment, there stood suddenly at his side Morgan le Fay, 
queen of the faeries, clothed in a shining white kirtle, who said, 

^ Welcome, dear knight, to Avalon. A w^eary time have I longed 
and waited for thy coming. Now thou art mine; my lord, my 
love. So let the restless ages roll, and the world totter and decay! 
We will dream on for ever in this changeless vale.' Then she 
put an enchanted ring upon his hand; so the years slipped from 
his shoulders and he stood before her in prime of youth and 
vigour. And she placed upon his brow a priceless golden crown 
of myrtle leaves and laurel, a crown no mortal treasure would 
suffice to buy—the Crown of Forgetfulness. Then Olger remem¬ 
bered no more the things which were past. His old loves, toils 
and battles faded from his mind; and in place of a dead memory 
a living love was given him, and he loved the fairy queen, and 
he was hers and she was his. Then she brought him to a palace 
where he found King Arthur healed of his wound, with whom he 
talked of knightly deeds and often rode with him in friendly 
jousts against the forms of Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristrem, or the 
shapes of great giants and dragons which Morgan le Fay and her 
brother Oberon raised up by enchantment for their pastime. 

Thus dwelt Sir Olger in a faery dream of love and pleasure in 
the land where there is no death and no time. And thus two 
hundred years passed by, like yesterday to him dreaming in the 
faery’s lap. 

But France fell into trouble. The enemy were on her soil. 
Battle raged, but there was none to lead her armies forth to 
victory. Chivalry was either dead or slept. On every side the 
Franks were beaten by their foes and driven back by Paynim 
and by Saracen, until it seemed that they would be blotted out 
from among the peoples of the world ; and they cried for a 
deliverer. Morgan le Fay heard and pitied them ; and though 
it grieved her sore to part with her own dear knight, she said, 
‘Olger must go back to battle again, for France and Christendom 1’ 
So she went to him and said, 

‘ Dear one, do you know how long you have dwelt with me ?' 

‘ A week, a month, a year, perchance,’ he answered, with a 
smile and kiss—‘ one does not reckon time in Paradise.’ 

Then she lifted the crown of forgetfulness from his brow, and 
his memory came again. 


235 


Olger the Dane. 

‘ I must go'back/ he cried, upstarting like one new wakened 
from a dream—‘ I have tarried here too long, Clarice will won¬ 
der why I stay, and Caraheu will think me wrecked. Peradven- 
ture Charles, my master, calls for Olger, and calls in vain. My 
sword, my horse, my spear ! 0 let me go, sweet queen. Yet tell 

me, have I dwelt long in this fair garden 1 * 

‘ Not long to me, dear knight—but you shall go,’ she answered. 

Then Morgan le Fay raised up his dead squire, Beiioist, and 
brought his sword Courtain, and led forth Papillon for his steed. 

‘ Guard well the ring upon your hand,’ she said, ‘ for, wearing 
it, your youth and vigour will not fade.’ She brought him more¬ 
over a torch, saying—‘ See that you kindle it not, so shall you 
live for ever; but if by mischance it should break out and burn, 
cherish the fire with care, for the measure of your days is the last 
spark of the torch.’ 

Then she threw a spell upon them all that they slept the while 
she carried them through the air to France. And when Sir Olger 
awoke he found himself lying by a fountain, his arms and armour 
at his side, and Benoist holding Papillon ready for him to mount: 
and all his life in Avalon seemed but a night’s dream. Leaping 
to horse they rode into a city. 

‘ What city is this V asked Olger of a horseman whom he over¬ 
took. 

‘ Montpellier, Sir Knight.’ 

* Oh, yes,’ said the Dane, ‘ but I had forgotten. In truth I 
ought to know Montpellier well enough, for a kinsman of mine is 
governor of the city,’ and he named the man he thought still 
ruled it. 

‘ You are pleased to jest,’ the horseman answered —* there was 
a governor of the city of that name two hundred years ago—the 
present governor is Regnier. But the man you speak of was a 
romance writer, wherefore I see you jest in claiming kinship with 
him. I need not tell you that he wrote the romance of Olger 
the Dane; a good story, though few believe it now, except per¬ 
chance a man who goes about the city very often singing it, and 
picks up money from the crowd.’ 

The horseman slackened his pace a little till Benoist came up 
with him. 

‘ Who is your master 1 ’ he whispered. 

‘ Sir,’ said the faithful squire, ‘ surely you must know him 1 
He is Olger the Dane.’ 

‘ You malapert,’ said the horseman, ‘ Olger the Dane perished 
in shipwreck two hundred years ago, and but for courtesy to the 


236 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

chevalier your master, I would make you pay dearly for jesting 
with me ! ’ 

Then the Dane and his squire rode on to the market-place of 
Meaux, where they stopped at the door of an inn which Olger 
well remembered. 

* Can we lodge here 1 ’ he asked. 

‘ Certainly, Sir Knight,’ answered the innkeeper, ‘ and be well 
treated.’ 

‘ But I wish to see the landlord.’ 

‘ Sir V said the innkeeper. ‘ I am the landlord.’ 

‘ Nay, nay,’ answered Olger, ‘ but I want to see Hubert the 
Neapolitan who keeps this house.’ 

The man looked at him for a minute, and seeing the knight’s 
countenance remain serious, he thought him nothing less than a 
madman. So he shut the door in his face, and having barred it, 
ran to an upper window and shouted into the street—^ Here is a 
man who wishes to speak with Hubert, my grandfather’s grand¬ 
father, who has been dead two hundred years. Seize him ! He 
is mad or possessed with a devil. Send for the Abbot of St Faron 
to come and cast out the evil spirit ! ’ 

A great crowd gathered about the inn and set upon the knight 
and his squire, harassing them with stones and darts; and 
an archer shot at Benoist and killed him. Then Sir Olger, 
grieving for the death of his squire, turned upon the crowd in 
fierce anger and leaped Papillon into their midst and cut them 
down on all sides till he had scattered from the market-place all 
those that were not dead upon its pavement. But so hotly burned 
his wrath that it kindled the torch he bare in his breast; where¬ 
fore he rode with it to the church of Saint Faron of Meaux. 
There the abbot met him. 

Olger said, ‘ Isyour name Simon? You at least should know me, 
for I founded this abbey and endowed it with lands and money.’ 

‘ Pardon me,’ answered the abbot, ‘ but I know little of those 
who came before me. Will you tell me your name ? ’ 

‘ Olger the Dane.’ 

‘ Strange,’ thought the good man to himself, ‘ he calls me 
Simon when my name is Geoffrey, and the abbey charter cer¬ 
tainly says that the abbot who lived in the days of Olger the 
Dane was named Simon. ‘ Sir Knight,’ said the abbot aloud, ‘ do 
you know that Simon has been buried so many years that his 
veiy bones are long since crumbled into dust ? ’ 

‘ What! Simon gone ? And Charles the Great, and Caraheu and 
my wife Clarice—where are they all ? Not dead—it cannot be 1’ 


237 


Olger the Dane. 

‘Dead—^long dead—two hundred years, my son,* the abbot 
said. Then a' great awe and wonderment fell upon Sir Olger as 
he thought that his dream of Avalon and Morgan le Fay per¬ 
chance was true; and he followed the abbot into the church, 
scarce knowing whither he went, and there told all that had 
happened to him. And the abbot believed him and gave thanks 
to Heaven for sending back the redoubtable champion of France 
and Christendom. Then Olger told him the secret of the torch 
and begged him to make an iron treasure-house beneath the 
church, wherein so little air should come that the flame might 
dwindle to a single spark, and that spark being nursed and 
husbanded might smoulder slowly through the ages. Now this 
being done and the torch safely locked up and guarded, the abbot 
became very curious to take in his own hands the strange ring 
the knight wore on his finger; and Olger let him draw it off. 
Instantly his youth departed, and he shrivelled into feebleness, a 
helpless withered husk of a man, with a skin like wrinkled parch¬ 
ment, and no sign of life save a quivering in his aged jaws. But 
his ring being restored, the Dane’s strength and youth returned, 
and he leaped upon Papillon and rode off to fight for France. 

The enemy was gathered at Chartres, a mighty host, and the 
flagging and disheartened Franks, broken into disorder, fled 
everywhere before the Paynim. Suddenly appeared in their 
midst a knight of mighty stature with a black eagle on his shield 
and riding on a great horse; a knight whose course about the 
battle-field was tracked with a long line of slain; and the frightened 
Franks seeing the marvels which he did, stayed in their flight, 
saying one to another, with bated breath for wonderment, ‘ It is 
Olger the Dane !’ till the whisper grew to a cry, and the cry to a 
great battle-shout that rent the air, ‘ Olger the Dane! Olger the 
Dane!’ as rushing fearless on the foe they swept the Paynim 
from the field as a tide sweeps litter from its course. Again and 
again did Olger lead the Franks to victory, nor rested he from 
battle till France was free again and Holy Church was stablished, 
and the spirit of chivalry had revived as in the olden time. 
While he fought the torch burned fiercely in the church of Saint 
Faron of Meaux, but when he stayed his hand it dwindled to a 
spark again. 

Covered with glory and renown Sir Olger came at length to 
court. The King of France was dead, and the queen loved the 
knight for his bravery and gentleness. One day whilst he slept 
upon a couch within the banquet chamber of the palace, the 
queen came to him and one of her dames of honour, named the 


238 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Lady of Senlis, withdrew the ring from his finger. They were 
frightened to see the strong man wither to an ancient dried-up 
skeleton. But the queen, knowing thereby of a truth that it was 
Olger the Dane, caused the ring to be immediately replaced and 
he regained his former youth. Howbeit the Lady of Senlis loved 
Sir Olger as well as the queen, and finding he cared nothing for 
her love, she determined at least to hinder him from wedding 
with her rival. So she sent thirty strong knights to waylay him 
as he passed out from the palace, charging them to seize Morgan 
le Fay’s ring from his hand. But Sir Olger spurred Papilloii 
among them, and with Oourtain his good sword cut them down : 
neither helm, hauberk, nor shirt of mail, availed against- his 
strong arm. 

Now after this the queen would wed with Olger, for she said, 
‘ He and no other shall sit upon the throne of Charles the Great, 
for he defended it of old and he has saved it now.’ And Olger, 
flushed with the great honour of sitting on the seat of Charles 
his master, consented. So they made ready for the bridal, and 
all the lords and ladies of France came to be present at the 
marriage. Such pomp and ceremony was never seen since the 
crowning of King Charles. The church shone with the blaze of 
gold and heraldry, and glittered with the jewels of fair dames 
and the armour and the banners of brave knights. Stately music 
echoed through the aisles as a grand procession entered, and the 
trumpeters and heralds proclaimed the Queen of France and 
Olger king that shall be crowned. Then Sir Olger took the 
queen by the hand and led her through the bending throng till 
they came before the altar, and together kneeled upon the chancel 
pavement. 

Suddenly there shone a light, brighter than all the gold and 
jewels, and Morgan le Fay, clothed in a shining kirtle so dazzling 
that none might bear to look thereon, floated down upon a white 
cloud, and caught away Sir Olger. And the cloud received them 
both, and wrapping them from mortal sight went up and waned 
into thin air and vanished in the church, so that whither they 
went no man can tell. 

But Olger the Dane is not dead. For the torch still burns in 
the treasure house of the Abbey of Saint Faron of Meaux. He 
only dreams in the arms of Morgan le Fay in the faery land of 
Avalon, and one day he will waken and come back. 

When men fail in the land of the Franks in time of sore dis¬ 
tress, when her armies fall upon the field and the spirit of her 
people is all broken in the battle-fight, when there is none to lead 


239 


Olger the Dane. 

Iier children against the stranger and the spoiler of her land, 
IMorgan le Fay will pity her and raise up her old champion, and 
the Dane shall come back on his mighty battle-horse to trample 
down the enemy. Then shall the Franks again shout ‘ Olger the 
Daue F and like an angry £ood sw^eep down upon the foa 


§{om5 of the %Isutt53, 


I. THE STORY OF SIGMUND AND SIGNY, 

Stgi was the son of All-father Odin. One day he went a hunting 
in a wood with a thrall named Bredi, and because Bredi slew by 
far the most and the finest of the deer, Sigi was angry at being 
outdone by a thrall; wherefore he rose up against Bredi and slew 
him, and hid his body in a snow-drift. For that cause fled Sigi 
from h-is father’s land; but Odin bare him company lest any 
should take vengeance on him, and brought him to the sea, and 
gave him war-ships. Then Sigi went a warring, and made 
himself a realm in Hunland and there reigned. Howbeit, in his 
old age they of his own household turned against him, and made 
a revolt and slew him. 

Then arose Rerir his son, who overcame the rebels and 
stablished afresh the kingdom of his father. And after many 
years, when King Rerir had accomplished all his vengeance on 
his enemies, and gotten together much wealth and great posses¬ 
sions, insomuch that he was envied of all kings, he was greatly 
troubled because he and his wife being fallen into age had no 
child to come after them; and it seemed to the king as though 
he had toiled and warred for naught. Then cried they both 
without ceasing to the gods to give them a child. And Freyja 
took pity on them and fetched an apple and gave it into the 
hands of Ljod her handmaiden, daughter of the giant Hrimnir, to 
give to the king. So the skymaid put on the dress of a crow, 
and came flying to where King Rerir sat musing on a mound, and 
dropped the apple in his lap. Then the king took the apple and 
gave it to his wife, and she ate thereof. 

In due season the time of the queen’s travail came and passed 
by, yet could she in nowise be lightened. And while she still lay 
sick, it befell that King Rerir went on a journey to the wars, 
and on his way a weariness overcame him, and he went home to 
Odin. 

Six years the queen^ lay in her trouble, neither could she by 
any means be delivered, till finding herself a dying, she bade them 


241 


The Stories of the Volsungs. 

cut the chil4 from out her body. They did as she bade them. 
She kissed the child at his birth, named him Volsung, and then 
died. Volsung grew a mighty warrior, stronger and more daring 
than any of his time. He wedded Ljod, the handmaiden of 
Freyja, and she bare him, first a son and daughter, Sigmund and 
Signy, which were twin, and after that nine sons. And all his 
seed were high-minded and of great hardihood and cunning, in 
which things the Volsurgs far surpassed all other folk before or 
since. 

Now when Volsung’s daughter, Signy, was come of age to wed, 
Siggeir, King of Gothland, came across the sea to ask her for his 
wife. 

Volsung had built a great mead-hall. So big was it that there 
stood an oak tree named Branstock in the midst, the limbs whereof 
branched all about the roof, and the roots under-ran all the 
benches. In this hall Volsung made a feast for Siggeir, and led 
forth his daughter Signy, and betrothed her to him in presence of 
his men. But Signy w^s very loth to the marriage, having no 
mind towards the King of Gothland; yet in this as in all things 
she bade her father rule for her. 

Now on the day of the wedding feast, at eventide when the 
men sate by the firelight at either end of the hall, and the great 
oak was shadowing the midst in gloom, there came amongst them 
an old man, one-eyed and of great stature. He was clad in a 
spotted cloak and linen breeches tight as hosen. He wore a 
slouched hat on his head, and went barefoot; in his hand was a 
sword. He took no heed of any, but went straightway to the 
Branstock and smote the sword up to the hilt into the tree-trunk. 
Then said he, ‘ Whoso plucketh out this sword from this stock 
shall have the same as a gift from me, and shall find in good 
sooth that never bare he better sword in hand than this.’ And 
the old man passed out: neither durst any question him whence 
he came or whither he went. 

Then each man hasted to be first to try and pull out the sword, 
thinking it a very easy matter. But beginning with the noblest 
they all made trial, yet not one of them could pluck it forth. 
Last of all came Sigmund, Volsung’s son, and no sooner did he 
set finger on the pommel than it loosed itself lightly to his hand. 

King Siggeir, beholding how goodly a sword it was, prayed 
Sigmund to sell it for thrice its weight in gold; and when 
Sigmund would not, he was very angry, for he coveted the weapon, 
yet made as though he cared little thereabout, for he was a 
double-dealing man. 


Q 


242 Popular Romances of the Midale Ages. 

There was fair weather on the morrow after Siggeir and Signy 
were wed, and Siggeir got ready to cross the sea again, neither 
would he abide as the custom was for the end of the feast. Then 
came Signy, pleading to her father that the marriage might be 
undone, for that she had no liking for her husband, and foreknew, 
besides, that great evil would befall if she went away with him. 
But Volsung said there was no help for it, inasmuch as they were 
all pledged to the wedding. King Siggeir made Volsung promise 
to come over to Gothland with his men in three months’ time, 
and there finish the feast: then he set sail with his bride. 

At the time appointed Volsung and his sons went over the sea 
to Gothland to the feast. But as soon as they were come to land, 
Sigiiy came and talked with her father and brothers privily, 
saying : ‘ Siggeir has made ready a great army to fall upon you, 
wherefore make all speed back to Hunland, and gather together 
what warships you may, and come and fight with him. But turn 
back for this time or you will surely be slain.’ 

‘Daughter,’ answered Volsung, ‘ all people know that long ere 
I was born I spake a vow that I would flee neither from fire nor 
sword. Men die but once, and I have fought a hundred fights 
and never prayed for peace.’ 

Then Signy besought that they would at least let her die with 
them, and not send her back to King Siggeir. But Volsung said, 
‘Thou art his ; wherefore go back.’ So she went back sorrowing. 

Now at daybreak King Siggeir made ready his host and led 
them forth to hunt down Volsung and his handful of folk. A 
brave fight the Volsungs made against that host. Eight times 
they hewed their way through, and turned to cut the mass in 
twain again, but in that fray King Volsung fell and all his men, 
saving only his ten sons, and these King Siggeir took and bound 
with cords. Then he carried the ten brethren away to a lonesome 
wood, and caused a great beam to be brought and set upon their 
feet. And each night for nine nights as they sate in the stocks, 
there came ravening from out the wood an old she-wolf, and bit 
one of the brethren till he died, then ate his flesh and went her 
way. But on the tenth night when only Sigmund was left alive, 
Signy sent a trusty man to anoint his face with honey, and to set 
some in his mouth. That night when the she-wolf came she 
sniffed the honey, and began licking his face all over with her 
tongue; and when she had licked it dry, she thrust her tongue 
into his mouth for more. Then Sigmund caught her tongue 
betwixt his teeth and held it fast, and the she-wolf started back 
and set her feet against the beam and tugged. Sigmund gripped 


243 


The Stories of the Volsungs. 

hard with hi§ teeth, and the she-wolf pulled, until the beam was 
broken in the fierceness of their tussle, and the beast’s tongue 
came out by the roots. So the she-wolf had her bane. Men say 
that she was Siggeir’s mother who by witchcraft took the wolf- 
shape. 

After this, Sigmund being loosed from the stocks dwelt in the 
woods, and none save his sister Signy knew of his hiding there. 
He made him an earth house underground and dwelt therein, 
and Signy nourished him with victuals. 

Signy had two children by King Siggeir, but as soon as ever 
the eldest was ten years old she sent him away to her brother in 
the wood, because she would have him trained up to avenge King 
Volsung’s death. One day Sigmund gave the boy the meal-bag 
and set him to make ready the bread whilst he went to gather 
firing. But Sigmund, when he came back with the wood, found 
no bread ready. The boy sat trembling and afraid to put his 
hand into the meal-bag, saying that there was something alive 
therein. Wherefore the next time his sister visited him Sigmund 
said, ‘ What shall I do with this feeble-hearted brat ] ’ She 
answered, ‘ Kill him; there is none of our blood in him.’ Sig¬ 
mund made no more ado but took and slew him. And when 
Signy’s other son was grown of like age she sent him also to her 
brother; and for the same cause she bade Sigmund slay him. 

'One day, as Signy sat in her bower, there came a wise witch- 
wife to her saying, ‘Change likenesses with me.’ And Signy 
being willing, the witch-wife took upon herself the likeness of the 
queen, and in that shape abode for three days with King Siggeir. 
Then Signy in the guise of the witch-wife came to Sigmund in 
his earth-house, saying, ‘ I have strayed in the wood and lost my 
way. I pray thee give me food and shelter.’ And Sigmund 
knew her not, but took her in and set meat before her. So for 
three days and three nights she abode with him in his earth- 
house.’ Then she departed and met the • witch-wife, and they 
changed themselves to their proper seeming again. 

Afterward Signy bare a child whose name was Sinfjdtli. He 
grew a big and hardy boy; fair of face like the Volsungs. When 
he was ten years old, Signy sent him to Sigmund. But first she 
sewed gloves on to his hands through flesh and skin. When she 
had done the like to the other boys they wept and screamed, but 
Sinfjotli never winced; nor yet when she flayed off his kirtle, 
though the skin came off with the sleeves. So soon as the lad 
was come to the earth-house, Sigmund set him to knead the meal 
while he went to fetch firing. By the time he got back the bread 


244 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

was made. Then Sigmund asked if he had found aught in the 
meal. ‘ Aye,’ said the boy, ‘ there was something quick therein, 

I know not what; I kneaded it all into the bread.’ Sigmund 
laughed and said, ‘ Thou hast kneaded the deadliest of vipers in 
the meal.’ Then Sigmund ate the bread, but would not suffer the 
boy to taste thereof, for Sinfjotli, though he might take no hurt 
from venom on the outside of him, durst not eat or drink thereof. 
After that Sigmund took the lad about the woods and trained 
him to a fierce and hardy life. But he wist not that the boy was 
his son. They gat wolf-skins from before the door of two men 
that were skin-changers, and clad themselves therein, and came 
forth in wolf-shape to slay men for their wealth. Whilst in this 
guise, it was agreed betwixt them that neither should risk the 
onset of more than seven men at once without howling for his 
fellow. And because one day Sinfjotli in his wolf-dress fought 
eleven men and slew them all, Sigmund finding him after the 
battle was angry, and ran upon Sinfjotli and worried him by the 
throat, because he had not called for help. Nevertheless when 
Sigmund saw the wound he had made in the lad’s throat he was 
sorry and looked how he might heal him. And as it fell out, he 
saw a weasel bitten in the throat and how his fellow ran to a thicket 
and brought a leaf and laid it upon the wound, and the creatuie 
was made whole. Then Sigmund got a blade of that same herb, 
and therewith Sinfjotli’s hurt was immediately healed. But 
when the time came for them to put off their wolf-gear, Sigmund 
took and burned their dresses lest more harm should befall because 
of them. 

Now Sinfjotli being come to manhood, Sigmund took counsel 
with him as to how they should come upon King Siggeir to slay 
him, and accordingly as they agreed, they stole into the porch of 
the king’s hall in the dusk of evening, and hid themselves betwixt 
the tuns of ale. Signy and the king had two young children; 
and as these played in the porch with a golden toy, a ring came 
off and went trundling away among the barrels. And when the 
children went seeking it, they saw two fierce, wild men crouched 
down, and away they ran to tell their father. While the king 
sat doubting, and thinking it no more than a youngster’s tale, 
Signy took both the children and brought them out into the 
porch, saying to Sigmund, ‘Here are the brats that have betrayed 
you. Slay them!’ Sigmund answered, ‘Nay, for they did it 
without guile.’ But Sinfjotli came forth from his hiding and 
drew his sword and slew them both. And he took the bodies 
and cast them into the hall at Siggeir’s feet. 


245 


The Stories of the Volsungs, 

Then up rose the king and his men, and set on so fiercely and 
in so great numbers that they took Sigmund and Sinfjotli and 
bound them. The most of that night the king lay awake devising 
the worst death he could make these men sufer; and on the 
morrow he had a big barrow made of turf and stones, and a 
great flat stone set up endwise for a wall in the midst. He set 
Sigmund and Sinfjotli one on either side of the stone, so that 
they might hear each other’s speech but in no wise come together. 
Then he gave tlie w^ord to cover in the barrow with earth and 
turf-sods and bury them quick. But as the thralls were working, 
Signy came and flung an armful of straw into the barrow; and 
the men kept her counsel. 

About nightfall the barrow was closed in. And Sinfjotli began 
to talk to Sigmund. He said, ‘ We shall not lack for meat, since 
the queen hath cast down swine’s flesh on my side wrapped in a 
bundle of straw; and in the flesh thy sword is sticking.’ Then 
Sinfjotli took out the sword and carved at the stone until he 
wrought a hole therein. And as soon as Sigmund could grip the 
swordpoint on the other side they set to work and sawed the 
stone in twain. So being loose in the barrow they cut their way 
through the earth, and got out into the air some while after mid¬ 
night. They then went and cut down wood, and set it round 
about the palace and kindled it. And when the palace was all 
ablaze Signy came running to the window. Sigmund would have 
got her out, but she would not. 

And Signy said to Sigmund, ‘ You have done well; but judge 
if I have forgotten vengeance for King Volsung! Did I begrudge 
to slay the worthless brats I bare to Siggeir 'i But I am mother 
to Sinfjotli! For Siggeir’s bane I lodged with thee those three 
nights in the witch-wife’s shape. Be glad; thou art Sinfjotli’s 
father. He is the child of Volsung’s son and Volsung’s daughter, 
and by him vengeance has come for Volsung. But I ?—I come 
away ? and miss to see King Siggeir burn 1 Nay, brother dear ! 
Merry was I not to wed with Siggeir, but merrily will I die with 
him.’ 

Then leaned she from the window and kissed Sigmund her 
brother, and Sinfjotli, and went blithely back again into the fire 
and burned with Siggeir and his men. 

After this Sigmund and Sinfjotli came back to Hunland, and 
they put down a man there which had made himself king in 
Volsung’s room; and Sigmund reigned over Hunland and made 
himself a name far and wide; moreover, he took to wife Borghild, 
who bare him two sons, Helgi and Hamund. 


246 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Now Sinfjotli must needs go to war again for a woman’s sake 
that was very fair. For this cause he fought with the queens 
brother, who likewise had set his love upon the same maiden. 
And Sinfjotli slew him and won his lands and took the damsel 
to himself. But Queen Borghild was not to be appeased for the 
slaying of her brother; and for all Sigmund could do it was a 
long while before she would let Sinfjotli look upon her face. 
Howsoever, she bade many great men to the funeral feast, and 
Sinfjotli came among the rest. And when the queen bare the 
drink to the guests she filled him a horn saying, with a fair 
courtesy, ‘ Drink now, good stepson.’ But he looked in the horn 
and would not taste thereof, for he said, ‘ A charm is therein.’ 
Then Sigmund laughed and rose up from his seat, and took the 
horn and drained it at a draught. Again the queen came to 
Sinfjotli, and mocked him, ‘ Wilt thou get another man to drink 
thine ale 1 ’ He took the horn, and answered, ‘ There is guile in 
the drink.’ So Sigmund came and tipped it off. The third time 
came the queen saying, ‘What Yolsung doth not drink his drinkF 
He took the horn into his hand, and said, ‘ There is venom in 
the cup.’ Sigmund, grown drunken with his ale, cried, ‘ Then 
strain it out with thy lips, O Son.’ So Sinfjotli drank, and fell 
down dead upon the floor. 

Then Sigmund rose up in grievous sorrow. He took the 
corpse in his arms and bare it away through a wood till he came 
to a river-mouth. And he was ware of a man in a little boat 
who asked if he would be ferried across the water; but the boat 
was so small it would hold but one, so they laid the corpse therein. 
And immediately corpse and man and boat vanished from Sig¬ 
mund’s sight. So he turned and came home ; and he put away 
his queen, and soon after that she died. 

King Eylimi had a fair daughter named Hjordis, and Sigmund 
went to woo her. Thither also came King Lyngi, Hunding’s 
son, on the same errand. And King Eylimi spake to his daughter, 
saying: ‘ Thou art a wise woman, wherefore, choose whether of 
these two kings thou wilt take.’ She answered, ‘Although he is 
well stricken in years, I choose Sigmund, since he is the man of 
greatest fame.’ 

So Sigmund was wedded to Hjordis and brought her home to 
Hunland, and King Eylimi came with them. But King Lyngi 
gathered together his men and came up against Sigmund to fight 
with him because he had taken away his bride. Sigmund sent 
Hjordis away into a wood, together with a certain bondmaid, 
and with all the treasure, to abide there whilst they fought. 


The Stories of the Volsungs, 247 

Then he and, King Eylimi set up their banners by the sea and 
blew the trumpets; but their army was by far the fewest. Old 
as King Sigmund was he hewed with his sword ever in the 
thickest of the battle, and smote down men till his arms were 
red with blood even to the shoulder. Yet neither host gave 
way. 

Now when the battle had lasted some while, there came into 
the fight an old man in a blue cloak, with a slouched hat on his 
head. He had but one eye, and in his hand he bare a bill. 
And when Sigmund lifted up his sword against him, the old man 
set his bill in the way, so the blade smote upon the bill-edge 
and shivered in two. But the old man was no more to be seen. 
Then great dismay spread through Sigmund’s host, because his 
good-hap was departed from him. And though the king cried 
on his men all he might, they fell fast about him; and by even¬ 
tide King Sigmund and King Eylimi were fallen in the forefront 
of the battle, and the war-noise ceased. 

At night came Hjordis stealing out of the wood, and went to 
and fro among the slain, seeking for Sigmund. There was yet a 
little life in him, and she said, ‘ Waken, dear lord, thou shalt 
not die • but we will heal thee to avenge my father.' He an¬ 
swered, ‘ It may not be ; neither will I suffer myself to be healed 
since Odin has broken my sword. But, behold now, thou wilt 
bear a child, and I know that he shall grow up the most famous 
of the Volsungs. Him shalt thou nurture to do thy vengeance \ 
only see thou treasure the shards of my good sword. Gram, for 
thereof shall a sword be made for him which shall accomplish great 
wonders. But now I am weary with wounds, and I would fain 
go home to my kindred.’ So Hjordis sat by him till the dawning, 
when he died. 

Now at sunrise came Alf the Viking, son of Hjalprek King of 
Denmark, sailing along the coast, who, seeing two women alone 
with the dead upon a battle-field, leaped ashore with his men 
and came to them. Then Hjordis told what had befallen, 
and lest the treasure in the wood should fall into King Lyngi’s 
bands she discovered its hiding-place to Alf, and they got the 
treasure out and laded the ships therewith ; and Hjordis and her 
handmaid sailed away to Denmark with the Vikings, and came to 
King Hjalprek’s palace and there abode. 



248 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 


n. THE STORY OF HELGI, HUNDING’S BANE. 

Helgi was Sigmund’s son which Borghild bare. Helgi made a 
name for himself when he went up to battle against Ilunding 
that mighty king, and slew him and took his lands. So was he 
Hundiiig’s bane. Afterwards came Hunding’s four sons with 
many warriors, and fought to win back their land, but Helgi 
overcame them and put their men to the rout. 

Now as he was returning from this victory Helgi met a com¬ 
pany of exceeding fair women, and the queen of them was 
Sigrun, King Hogni’s daughter. So fair was she that Helgi 
could not take his eyes off from beholding her, and he spake to 
her, saying, ^ Fare home with me and be my queen.’ But 
Sigrum answered, ‘Would that I might, for verily my heart 
goeth out toward thee, but I have a worse fate to accomplish, 
since my father hath promised me in marriage to Hodbrod, the 
son of King Granmar; and him I despise. Go, fight him ; win 
me, and I am thine.’ 

Then Helgi sent out men with money to hire as many ships 
as they might. They got together many vessels and near a score 
thousand men, and Helgi made sail for King Granmar’s country. 
They made the land at Wolfstone, and fought their way ashore. 
Fierce was the battle that befell; and in the midst there came a 
company of shield-maidens and fought on Helgi’s side, chief of 
whom was Sigrun, the king’s daughter. Then Helgi fell on King 
Hodbrod and slew him beneath his own banner; and seeing this 
Sigrun cried out, ‘ Thou hast done well, and now I pledge thee 
my troth. AVe will share the land between us.’ 

So Helgi, when he had overcome King Granmar and his host, 
became king of that realm and wedded Sigrun. After that 
Hogni, Sigrun’s father, came up against him because he had 
taken away his daughter; and with him also came Dag his sou. 
But Helgi slew Hogni, and put his men to the worst ; and as for 
Dag, after he had taken an oath from him to make war on him 
no more, he let him go in peace. But Dag went his way and 
sacrificed continually to Odin, praying that he might avenge his 
father. And at last Odin lent Dag his spear, and with that 
spear in his hand Dag came seeking Helgi his brother-in-law, and 
finding him in a place called Fetter-grove, thrust him through 
therewith that he died. 

Forth rode Dag to his sister Sigrun, to tell her the tidings. 


249 


The Stories of the Volstm^s, 

* L®/ said he, ‘ Helgi have I slain, and our father is avenged ! ’ 
Sigrun answered, ‘ Now are my good days past; no more shall I 
find gladness in the pleasant sunshine. Cursed be thou for a foul 
oath-breaker. May thy ship linger when it should sweep the 
swiftest! May thy steed lag when thou wouldest fain flee fastest 
from thine enemies 1 Thy sword, may it never bite till in wrath 
it singeth round thine head ! But as for Helgi, my love, he was 
chief among .all other men, as the ash-tree that riseth from the 
thorns, or as the antlered deer is above the forest-game.’ 

Then she raised a barrow above Helgi and gave him a noble 
burial. And when Helgi was gone up to Valhalla, Odin made 
him lord over all things there, and Hunding came and served 
him, and made ready his fire, and tended his hounds and horses. 

In the gloaming of the evening there came one of Sigrun’s 
handmaidens to Helgi’s mound, and behold she saw Helgi and 
a great company of dead warriors riding fast about the mound. 
Then she ran and told her mistress, and Sigrun hasted and came 
thither, and finding the mound uncovered, she went in and took 
Helgi’s cold head upon her lap. Thus she made her moan : ‘ O 
Helgi, my dead love, I hunger for thee, as the hawks of Odin 
hunger for their quarry. See, I kiss thy hair all dripping with 
cold dews ; I take thy hands in mine. O let me warm thee 
back to life against my breast, and bring the light to those dull 
eyes again !’ And the dead man spake to her. He said ; ‘Now 
shall all death-sorrow depart from me if thou wilt dwell with me 
in my mound ; if thou, a fair white maiden, wilt abide in the 
arms of a dead man.’ Then Sigrun commanded a bed to be 
made ready in the mound, and for all her folk told her that the 
dead were stronger and more hurtful in the night-season than in 
the daylight, she went in thither and lay by her dead lord. But 
in the early twilight Helgi rose up, saying, ‘ Hark, I hear the 
crowing of Salgofnir, the golden cock upon Valhalla. I must 
ride my pale horse along the reddening ways to Windhelm’s 
bridge. Farewell; the dead ride fast.’ Therewith Helgi de¬ 
parted, and after that came no more to the mound. Sigrun 
watched and waited night by night, till the hope of his coming 
waned away. Then because of her sorrow she sickened and 
died. 

Of old it was commonly believed that folk should be born 
again. And it was said that Helgi the Scathe of Hadding, who 
lived long after, was none other than Helgi, Hunding’s bane; 
and they say that Kara the Valkyrie, daughter of Halfdan, was 
Sigrun. 


' 1^0 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 


III. THE STORY OF SIGURD AND BRYNHILD. 

Now soon after Hjordis was come to Hjalprek’s palace in Den¬ 
mark, she hare dead Sigmund’s son. They called his name 
Sigurd, and as he grew up there was no child but loved him. 
Truly he waxed a man of great might and prowess, and for his 
high mind and his stout heart he has ever been held above all 
the men of the north. Regin was his foster-father, and taught 
him the runes, and to speak with strange tongues, and play at 
chess, as was the wont of king’s sons. So the boy grew up, and 
his mother in due time wedded with Alf, King Hjalprek’s son. 

One day Regin asked Sigurd if he knew how much of his 
father’s treasure the king had, and whether he could trust the 
king therewith. Sigurd answered, ‘ Trust him 1 Aye ; why 
not 1 I can get it when I want it.’ Another time came Regin, 
saying, ‘ I marvel truly to see thee run about afoot like a knave. 
Why doth not the king give thee a horse to ride 1 ’ Sigurd said, 
‘ I need but ask and have.’ Therewith he went to King Hjalprek 
and asked for a horse ; and immediately the king bade him go 
take one for himself, together with whatsoever thing else he 
desired ; for the king loved him as though he were his own son. 
AVhereforo on the next day Sigurd went alone into the wood, 
and meeting there an old, long-bearded man, he said, ‘ I am 
come to choose a horse ; give me counsel thereon.’ Then the old 
man drave the horses down into the deeps of the river Busil- 
tarn; and it fell out that they all swam back to land save a 
young grey horse whose back no man had crossed. ‘ Take him,’ 
said the grey-beard, ‘ he is of Sleipnir’s breed ;’ and saying this 
the old man vanished away. That old man was Odin ; he gave 
Sigurd the foal Grani, which was the best horse in the world. 

Regin came again to Sigurd, saying, ‘ I can tell thee where 
there is much wealth for the winning and great fame to be got 
thereby. On the Glistening Heath dwells the dragon Fafnir; he 
has more treasure than any king ever yet heaped together.’ 
Sigurd said, ^ I have heard of this evil worm and how he is so 
terrible none durst go against him.’ Regin answered, ‘Nay; 
men make a great tale about him, but he is no worse than 
other lingworms. Thy fathers, the old Volsungs, would have 
recked little of him.’ Sigurd said, ‘ I am scarce out of my childish 
years, and have not yet the hardihood of my sires ; but why art 
thou so eager to drive me to this encounter V 


The Stories of the Volsimgs, 251 

Then Eegin told him about Fafnir, saying, ‘ I had two brothers, 
Fafnir and Otter. Otter was a great fisher, and by day he put 
on the shape of an otter, the better to take the fish, but he always 
brought them home to Hreidmar our father, begrudging nothing. 
As for Fafnir, he was greedy and grasping, and wanted every¬ 
thing for his own. In the swirl where Otter went fishing abode 
a dwarf called Andvari, in the likeness of a pike, for which reason 
the swirl was named Andvari’s force. One day Otter caught a 
salmon in the force and brought it to land, and when he had 
eaten it he lay slumbering on the bank. It befell that Loki 
passed that way with Odin and Hahnir; and Loki, seeing Otter 
asleep, flung a stone and killed him. Then they flayed off the 
otter’s skin and brought it to Hreidmar’s house, and showed him 
what they had done. But when Hreidmar saw that they had 
slain his son he was wroth, and immediately laid hands on them, 
neither would he let them go till they promised to fill, the otter- 
skin with gold, and cover it without with gold. Then went Loki 
to Ean, and having borrowed her net, cast it into Andvari’s force 
and took the pike ; and he made Andvari bring out his gold and 
fill the otter-skin and cover it without. Andvari gave up all his 
gold save only one ring, for he said that whoso had that gold- 
ring should find it his bane. But when the gods brought the 
otter-skin to Hreidmar he looked at it and spied one of the 
muzzle-hairs uncovered; and he would have Andvari’s last ring 
to cover that hair withal. Then Loki rejoiced, saying to Hreid¬ 
mar, “That ring shall be the bane of thee and thy son !” And 
so it fell out. For Fafnir murdered his father to get the gold, 
and after that became more grudging than ever. So he grovelled 
till he grew a worm, the worst of worms, and fell to brooding on 
his treasure. But I went to King Hjalprek and became his 
master-smith.’ Then Sigurd said, ‘If thou wouldst have me slay 
this dragon, make me now by thy craft a trusty sword.’ 

Straightway went Eegin to his forge and made a sword. When 
it was done Sigurd took the sword in his hands and smote it on 
the anvil to prove it, but the blade brake and he cast it away, 
bidding Eegin forge a better. So Eegin blew up his fire and 
made another sword. But Sigurd looked thereon and said, ‘ A 
plague on thy smithying, Eegin ! Art thou a traitor like all thy 
kin I ’ And he took that brand and brake it likewise across the 
anvil. 

Then went Sigurd to his mother Hjordis and asked for the 
shards of his father’s sword Gram. And when he had gotten 
them he came to Eegin in the smithy and bade him weld th«ii 


252 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

together. Regin, grown surly by this time, flung the piecos in 
the fire and took a welding-heat on them. When the sword was 
joined, and he bare it from the forge, it seemed to the smith that 
fire burned along its edges. Then Sigurd took and smote the 
sword into the anvil, and clave the anvil down to the stock ; but 
the edge of the blade was not turned. He took a lock of wool 
and flung it in the river against the stream, and cut it clean in 
two with the sword. And he said, ‘ It is a good blade.’ And 
Regin said, ‘ Now I have made a brand for thee thou wilt keep 
thy troth and go and fight with Fafnir.’ But Sigurd answered, 
‘All in good time, but first I must avenge my father.’ 

Sigurd went away to Gripir the seer, who knew things to come, 
and what should happen to men; and he besought Gripir to 
foreshow him his life. Then spake the seer: ‘ Thou wilt get 
riches from a dragon, but thou wilt squander them. Thou shalt 
win fame from many kings, and there shall come after thee no 
greater man than thou. Thou shalt learn wisdom from a woman 
and yet not be wise against women. Thou shalt forget her thou 
lovest best and woo her for another, and a woman shall be thy 
bane.’ But Sigurd was angry with the seer, and said, ‘How 
could I forget her I loved best V And he came away. 

A little after Regin met him and said, ‘ Why tarry longer % 
Go and slay Fafnir.’ But he answered, ‘I have other work to 
do.’ 

Then came Sigurd to King Hjalprek and asked him for men 
and ships and war-gear wherewith to go and avenge his father 
on the Hundings. And the king having furnished him with all 
he desired, Sigurd steered the noblest of the dragon-keels, and 
led the way across the green sea-plain. For some days they 
sailed with fair wind and weather; then the colour faded from 
the sea, the wan sky gathered thick with piling clouds, the wave- 
mounds rose, the storm-wind beat their crests to foam and flung 
the spume-flakes wide. Like breaking hills the waters tumbled 
in upon the deck; yet, for all the storm was so fierce, Sigurd 
would take in no sail, but rather bade his men crowd on the 
more. No Yolsung ever furled sail for any wind that blew. In 
the midst of the storm a certain man hailed them from a cliff 
top, and Sigurd steered that way and took him aboard. When 
they asked his name he said, ‘ Once when I gladdened Odin’s 
ravens in the battle, men called me Hnikar. Call me that, or 
Feng or Fjoliiir, as you will.’ Then Sigurd, being ware that 
Hnikar knew the fates and what was to come, asked him con¬ 
cerning the things which betoken good and evil to a warrior. 


The Stories of the Volsungs, 253 

Hnikar said, ‘ It bodeth good for him that goeth to war if he see 
a dark winged raven, or two young warriors in a porchway, or if 
he hear a wolf howl from beneath an ash-tree. To trip the foot 
when clad for battle is a sorry token, for it showeth that the 
Disir are on either side of thee, and greedy for thy wounding. 
The warrior should go forth in the morning well combed, well 
W'ashed, well fed, so he may endure the toils of the day; but at 
evening let him fight with his back to the setting sun, that the 
eyes of his enemy may be dazzled, while his own may see the 
better. 

Soon afterwards the storm abated, and Hnikar vanished away. 
And when the vessels were come to Hunland where King Lyngi 
the Hunding reigned, Sigurd got his men ashore and laid waste 
the country with fire and sword, and drave the folk inland, so 
that they fled to their king and told him how the Volsungs were 
pillaging the shores. Then King Lyngi sent messages throughout 
his realm and gat together a great army and came out, he and 
his brothers, to withstand Sigurd; and an exceeding fierce fight 
there was. Sigurd went about the battle with his good sword 
Gram and smote down men and horses till one could not see his 
mail for blood, and his foes shrank aback before him. He it was 
who smote Lyngi down, through helm and chine, and slew all 
the other sons of Hunding; then his men fell on the discomfited 
host and put the most part of them to death. So Sigurd won 
back his father's land, and after abiding there for a short space, 
he came again to Denmark. 

He had been but a little while at home when Eegin came and 
minded him of his promise to go and fight Fafnir. So Sigurd 
gat him ready and rode with Regin to the heath where Fafnir 
was wont to go to his watering. They saw the mighty track he 
made, and how it led to a cliff whereon the drake w'ould lie and 
hang his head over to lap the water thirty fathoms below. ‘Thou 
hast beguiled me. Regin,’ said Sigurd, ‘in that thou didst say 
this drake was no bigger than other ling-worms, whereas I see 
by the track of him that he is very great.’ But Regin counselled 
him to make a pit in the drake’s pathway and sit therein, so that 
when the worm came to his watering he might smite him to the 
heart. Then said Sigurd, ‘Aye, but the blood of so huge a 
creature will flood the heath, and fill the pit, and drown me 
therein.’ Regin answered, ‘ What profiteth it to give thee coun- 
seH Thou hast not the courage of thy kindred.’ Howbeit, 
when Sigurd rode away over the heath to seek the dragon. Regin 
sneaked off and hid himself to save his skin. 


254 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

Now when Sigurd was at work digging the pit, he was ware of 
the same old man with the long beard who gave him his horse. 
The grey-beard bade him dig many pits wherein the blood might 
run, and then vanished away. So Sigurd made pits all about 
the heath and hid himself in one of them. Presently the great 
worm came creeping along his track, snorting venom as he went, 
and sluaking the earth with his roaring. Sigurd had no fear, but 
from the pit thrust up his sword and smote the drake beneath 
the left shoulder to the heart. 

Then Fafnir, when he knew he had gotten his death-thrust, 
lashed out right and left in his madness, and brake to pieces all 
the trees about him. And he spake to Sigurd, saying, ‘ Who 
drove thee to this deed h And who art thou that fearest not my 
terribleness like other folk ? ’ Sigurd said, ‘ My heart, my hand, 
my sword, these urged me to thy slaying. I am Sigmund the 
Volsung’s son, and “ an old sire maketh a hardy boy.” ' Then 
said Fafnir, ‘ Kejoice not to win the gold; there is a curse on it, 
and it shall prove thy bane as it has been mine.’ ‘Fret not 
thyself to lose it then,’ answered Sigurd, ‘ for naught it availeth 
for a man to cling to his gold when his life-day is done; but as 
for me I will hold it till that day of days.’ 

Now as soon as Fafnir was dead, liegin crawled out from his 
hiding-place and began to make great ado, saying, ‘ Alas! thou 
hast slain mine own brother, and verily I am not wholly guiltless 
in this matter.’ Sigurd mocked him for hiding in the heather- 
bush, and bade him take comfort, for that he was guiltless of 
aught save cowardice. Eegin said, ‘ Boast not thyself, for had it 
not been for the sharp sword I made thee thou couldst not have 
prevailed against him.’ Sigurd laughed, ‘Better in fight is a 
stout heart than a sharp sword.’ Then Eegin fell to lamenting 
figain, saying, ‘ My brother is dead, and, good sooth, but it was 
I that slew him.’ Nevertheless, for all his heaviness, Eegin went 
to the body of the worm and began to drink of Fafnir’s blood: 
and he spake to Sigurd, saying, ‘ I pray thee cut the heart from 
out him, bear it to the fire and roast it, and give me to eat.’ 

Then Sigurd took the drake’s heart and set it on a spit and 
made a fire and roasted it. ’ But as it sputtered in the fire he 
laid his finger thereon to try if it were done, and set his finger 
in his mouth. And so soon as Sigurd tasted of the worm’s heart- 
blood, he understood the voice of all fowls, and knew what the 
wood birds chattered in the bushes. One said, ‘ Sigurd, give not 
the meat to another, but eat it thyself—so shalt thou become the 
wisest of men.’ Another spake, ‘ Eegin doth but beguile thee 


255 


The Stories of the Volsungs. 

Lhat he may get the treasure/ ‘ If I were Sigurd/ said a third, 
‘ I would smite off his head, and save all disputing about the 
gold.’ ‘Well magged, gossip,’ cried another bird, ‘for “where 
wolf’s ears are be sure their teeth are not far off; ” and when he 
has done so, let him ride to Hindfell. There sleeps fair Brynhild, 
and from her he shall gain great wisdom.’ 

Sigurd thought within himself, ‘Begin shall never be my bane; 
so let both brothers travel by one road ’—and with that he drew 
his sword Gram and smote off Kegin’s head by the shoulders. 
Then straightway the birds broke out a-singing, and in their songs 
they told of Brynhild, the maiden that lay sleeping in a flaming 
hall of gold upon the mountain Hindfell; told how Odin struck 
the sleep-thorn into her because, being a Valkyrie, she had 
chosen for death in battle one he willed not to be slain ; told 
how only Sigurd might wake her from the torment of her sleep. 

Then Sigurd ate of Fafnir’s heart and put by the rest; and 
after that he went and sought out Fafnir s dwelling-place, which 
was dug deep into the earth, and got the treasure out. There 
was more gold than two dray horses could carry, besides the 
Helm of Awe and the gold Byrnie, and many other precious 
things. He set the gold in two big chests and laded them upon 
his horse Grani, whom he would fain have led by the bridle, 
because the burden was so great; yet would not that good steed 
stir till his master leaped upon his back. Then, swift as the 
wind, he sped away for Hindfell which lies by the land of the 
Franks. 

Now when Sigurd came to the mountain, he saw as it were a 
flame of fire and a great light go up from Hindfell. And when 
he reached the top, behold, a shield-hung castle shining with the 
glory of the gold; above, upon the topmost tower, a banner; but 
all about was desolate and still. Then went he in. There was 
silence, save his footfall sounding in the hall. But as he wan¬ 
dered hither and thither he came upon a fair maiden fast asleep 
and lying in her armour. At first he wist it had been a man, till 
he took her helmet off and saw the golden locks stream all about 
her head. So fast was .the byrnie set upon her that it seemed 
to have grown to her flesh; and because of this byrnie in which 
she went to the wars, the maiden was called Brynhild; but 
Sigurd cut it with his sword as it had been no more than cloth, 
and rent it from the collar and tare the sleeves away. 

Then Brynhild opened her eyes and said, ‘ Who has prevailed 
to rend my byrnie and to deliver me from my long sleep % ’ 

He answered, ‘ I, Sigurd the Volsung, slayer of Fafnir; I that 


256 Poptdar Romances of the Middle Ages, 

bear Fafnir’s helm upon my head, and Fafiiir’s bane in m.}'' hand; 
I rent the byrnie.’ 

Brynhild said, ‘ Long and wearily have I slumbered! How 
sweet it is to see the day again, and the bright sky, and the 
plentiful green earth ! It was when Helm Gunnar fought with 
Agnar, and Odin promised him the victory, that I rebelled against 
All-Father and chose for death Helm Gunnar in his stead; so 
Odin pierced me with the sleep-thorn, and doomed me when I 
woke to love but to possess not; to wed, but not to have my 
will. Y^et vowed I a vow that I would only love a man which 
knew not fear.’ 

Then Sigurd besought her to teach him wisdom. Brynhild 
fetched a beaker and made a love-drink and bare to him; and 
while he drank she showed him the hidden lore of the runes that 
are the root of all things. She taught him runes of war, of love, 
of feasting, and of healing; showed him words and signs that 
have power over herbs, and cattle, and men—yea, that compel 
the .zEsir up in Asgard; showed him how and where to carve 
them, on gold and glass, on mead-horn, on the sword-hilt, on the 
rudder of the ship, on bough and flower-bud, on chariot-wheel, 
upon the eagle’s bill, and on the witch-wife’s seat. 

As Sigurd listened, his eyes beheld her beauty whilst she spake; 
and he said, ‘ Surely no wiser nor sweeter woman than thou art 
may be found in the wide world; therefore will I have thee for 
mine own, because thou art grown so dear to me.’ She answered, 

‘ Though I had all the sons of men to choose from, thee would I 
take beyond them all.’ And so they plighted their troth. 

Then Sigurd rode away. His golden shield was wrought with 
many folds ; pictured thereon was the image of the drake, in 
brown and red. Gold-wrought were his weapons, gold the 
housings of his horse, and on them all was blazoned the image 
of the drake, that men might know the slayer of the great worm 
Fafnir. His hair was golden-red and fell about his face in locks; 
his beard of the same hue, thick and short: high-nosed he was ; 
high-boned and broad his face; so bright were his eyes that few 
durst gaze up into them. He was wide as two men betwixt the 
shoulders; and as for his height, when he girt on his sword 
Gram which was seven spans long, and passed through standing 
corn, the sheath-point smote the ears as he went. Persuasive 
was he'of speech, and so wise withal that none could gainsay his 
words; gentle to his friends, terrible to his enemies; and no man 
ever shamed him or put him in fear. 

Sigurd journeyed till he came to Hlymdale to the dwelling of a 


257 


The Stories of the Volsungs. 

great chief named Heimir, who had wedded Bekkliild, a sister of 
Brynhild. And since Heimir besought him to tarry awhile, he 
turned in thither and there abode; and daily went out with 
Alswid, Heimir’s son, for sport with hawk and hound. 

Soon after, came Brynhild also to the castle to see her sister; 
but Sigurd knew not of her coming, neither saw her; for she 
came unseen and went up and dwelt in a chamber in a high 
tower. There she sate day by day embroidering upon a cloth 
with golden thread the slaying of the dragon Fafnir and his 
brother Begin, and the winning of the treasure. But one time 
when Sigurd came from hunting, his hawk flew up to a high 
window in that tower; and climbing after it, Sigurd looked in 
at the window and saw a maiden, and how she wrought his deeds 
in gold with wondrous skill and long patience. When he knew 
that it was Brynhild, he took no more joy in hunting, but left 
his steed idle in the stall, and his hawks to pine upon their 
blocks. 

Then Alswid asked, what ailed him that he would no longer 
join their games. He answered, ‘I have seen Brynhild, the 
fairest woman, and in her needlework she works the story of my 
life; deeds past and deeds to come.’ Alswid said, ‘It is vain to 
think of her ; for Brynhild has never let a man sit beside her, 
nor given him drink; she is a war-maid and driveth men to 
battle to win fame; but none may love her,’ ‘iSievertheless,’ 
said Sigurd, ‘ I would make trial and know for certain.’ So on 
the next day he came to Brynhild in her bower and greeted her. 
She said, ‘ Glad am I since thou art here, but who shall say if 
gladness may endure to life’s end ? ’ Then he sate down beside 
her on the bench ; and she forbad him not. There came four 
damsels bearing mead in golden beakers. Brynhild arose and 
poured the wine and bare to Sigurd, and gave him to drink. 
He took the beaker; then took the arms that bare it, and drew 
them about his neck, and kissed her; she forbad him not. And 
he said, ‘ Thou art the fairest maid in ail the earth, and I am 
wholly thine.’ But Brynhild said, ‘ Is it wise to plight all thy 
faith to a woman ? Thou mayest change and break thy pledge.’ 
He answered, ‘If my tongue pledged thee not, my heart is fixed 
for now and ever. I can never change, however long the day 
till we are wed.’ Brynhild, foreknowing what should come to 
pass, looked up in pain and said, ‘ Beloved, that day will never 
come; for it is fated that we may not abide together.’ Then 
waxed Sigurd exceedingly sorrowful and said, ‘What fruit shall 
there be of all our life-days if we are sundered % Harder would 

R 


258 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

it be to bear than the sharp sword-stroke/ She answered sadly, 
‘Thinkest thou that I have naught to bear? When as a war- 
maid I set my helm upon my head, and go forth to battle to help 
the kings, will it V to me a light thing to know that thou art 
wed to Giuki’s daughter—thou whom I love so dear %' Then 
Sigurd cried, ‘ God forbid that I should do this thing. Am I a 
double-hearted man that any maiden should beguile me away 
from thee % Thee and no other woman I swear to have for mine 
own, and naught shall ever sunder us.^ So with many like words 
did Sigurd comfort her, and he gave her moreover for a pledge a 
gold ring. It was Andvari’s ring, the last ring of his hoard, 
which he had cursed. And after they had plighted their troth 
anew he went his way and joyously hunted with Alswid and his 
men. 

South of the Ehine dwelt king Giuki and his queen Grimhild. 
There they ruled a wide realm, and had three sons, Gunnar, 
Hogni, and Guttorm, all men of great valour and renown, and 
an only daughter named Gudrun, who was bright and fair as the 
summer sunshine. But one night Gudrun dreamed an ill dream, 
and her joy departed from her, neither would she take pleasure 
in anything till she should learn what the dream might signify. 
And when there was no one found within her palace that could 
read the meaning of the dream, her maidens counselled her to 
seek out Brynhild because of her great wisdom, and because she 
knew the runes which are the root of all things. So Gudrun 
arrayed herself and her maidens in apparel of great price, and 
took her journey and came seeking Brynhild. 

Brynhild sate in her hall, well knowing who was come seeking 
her, and she sent to meet Gudrun and her women, and brought 
them to the castle, and served them there with meat and drink 
in silver vessels, and gave them good greeting. Then perceiving 
Gudrun to be somewhat shy of speech, Brynhild began to talk 
of the great men of the time and their deeds. And when she 
had spoken of Haki and Hagbard and Sigar and many more, 
Gudrun said gently, ‘Why hast thou not named my brethren, 
for in truth they are held to be first among mighty men ? ’ 
Impatient of her words Brynhild answered, ‘ Of what use to talk 
of them, or even of those whereof I spake ? Hast thou not heard 
of Sigurd the Volsung? He is king of them all, and more 
renowned than any man.’ Then with fondness in her eyes she 
told of Sigurd’s birth and nourishing, and dwelt with pride upon 
his deeds. Gudrun said, ‘ Perchance thou Invest him, and so 
dost deem him peerless. But I am saddened with a dream, and 


259 


The Stories of the Volsungs, 

liave no mind to speak of other things. Wilt thou tell me truly 
what it betokenethl* ‘I will keep back nothing/ answered 
Brynhild. 

‘ I thought in my dream/ said Gudrun, ‘ that as I wandered in 
a wood with many other maidens, we saw a hart with golden 
hair, that for its beauty and greatness far excelled the other deer 
of the forest. We all sought to take him, deeming him more to 
be desired than all other things. How it befell I know not, but 
I got him. Then I took and nurtured him, and he grew so dear 
to me tongue cannot tell, when suddenly there came a fierce 
woman—* 

Brynhild’s face grew dark and angry. 

Gudrun looked into her eyes and cried, ‘0 Brynhild, it was 
thou / Thou earnest as I fondled him—’ 

Brynhild cried fiercely—‘Yea. I came and shot the deer upon 
thy knees, gave thee a wolf-cub in his stead, and sprinkled thee 
with thy brothers’ blood. Was that thy dream 

Gudrun bowed her head and hid her face. 

‘ Then hear the reading of it. Thou wilt take Sigurd from 
me, but thou shalt not have him long. A mighty strife will 
come by cause of thee and me, and blood will flow. But woe is 
me ! For I may never win my well-beloved. Away 1 lest I seek 
to tempt the Fates again ! ’ 

Then Gudrun and her maidens rose up quickly and journeyed 
home; but Brynhild sat and mused upon her punishment ordained 
of Odin. 

Now Sigurd bade farewell to King Heimir and took his way 
with his war-gear and treasure and came riding till he reached 
the hall of King Giuki, who seeing his comeliness, and how he 
shone in golden array, at first deemed him come down from the 
gods, but when he learned his name and knew him for the slayer 
of Fafnir, bade him welcome to abide with them. So Sigurd 
remained with King Giuki and his sons, and proved himself 
foremost in all their war-games. 

But Giuki’s wife, Grimhild, when she saw how goodly a man 
Sigurd was, and heard him speak continually of Brynhild and 
his love for her, began to cast about how she might lead him to 
wed with her daughter Gudrun. For she saw that even her sons 
held him for a man of far greater prowess than they. So one 
night when they sate drinking in the mead-hall, the queen arose 
and bare a subtile drink to Sigurd. Sigurd took the horn, but 
no sooner had he drank thereof than the remembrance of Bryn¬ 
hild and all his love for her straightway departed from him. 


26 o Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

And the queen said, ‘ Why journey further ? Abide with us; 
Giuki will he thy father, I thy mother; Gunnar and Hogni shall 
be thy brethren. Tarry here, and we will make a kingdom 
stronger than any upon earth.’ 

Sigurd liked her speech, for his memory was stolen away by 
the enchantment of that drink. So he abode with them, and 
strengthened the realm; and Giuki and his sons prospered ex¬ 
ceedingly and made themselves greatly to be feared of all kings 
round about, because of Sigurd’s abiding there. 

Then it befell that as Gudrun poured the mead one night and 
gave him drink, Sigurd took note how fair she was and full of 
courtesy. And ever thenceforward his eyes would follow her 
about and rest upon her face. Giuki was very glad thereof, and 
came to Sigurd saying, ‘ Seldom will a king offer his daughter to 
any man, but rather will wait to be entreated; yet because of 
thy might and worthiness Gudrun shall be thine; yea, though 
none other man should get her for all his prayers. Take her to 
wife and make alliance with us, and go no more away.’ 

And the thing seemed good to Sigurd, because the maiden was 
very fair in his eyes; and he answered, ‘Great is the honour 
which thou payest me. Let it be as thou hast said.’ 

So they made the marriage feast, and Sigurd was wed to 
Gudrun. He gave his new-made wife to eat of the remnant of 
Fafnir’s heart; so she grew wise and great-hearted. 

After that Sigurd fared abroad with Gudrun’s brothers, and 
they won lands and wealth and renown, and became great kings. 

When they were returned from their journeyings, Grimhild 
called Gunnar her son, and said, ‘ Gold and land hast thou in 
plenty; yet one thing thou lackest, my son, in that thou art 
unwed. Go now and woo Brynhild, for of all women there is 
none more meet for a king’s bride.’ 

So Gunnar spake to his brethren and to Sigurd, and they atl 
rode with him over hill and dale till they came to King Budli’s 
lioiise, and asked his daughter of him. But Budli answered, ‘ I 
cannot say you yea nor nay, since Brynhild is so high-minded; 
she will wed whom she will. Go, and may your wooing prosper.’ 
Then came they to Heimir in Hlymdale. He told how Brynhild 
abode upon the mountain Hindfell, in a castle girt about with 
fire, and how she swore to wed that man alone who should rid« 
through and come to her. 

So they took their journey and rode up the steep sides of 
Hindfell, when lo they saw a castle with a golden roof-tree, 
hedged all about with roaring flames. 


26 i 


The Stories of the Volstings, 

Straightway Gunnar put his horse to face the fire, and smote 
the spurs into his flanks: but the horse stood shu-ldering, and 
backed and reared, but would not go forward. ‘ Lend me thy 
horse Grani,’ said Gunnar to Sigurd, ‘for mine will not tread 
this fire.’ With right good will Sigurd got him down from off 
his horse, and Gunnar mounted him. Grani galloped to the fire, 
but there stood still; neither for all Gunnar could do would he 
go into the flame. 

Then Sigurd said, ‘ I will compass the matter for thee so ho 
and Gunnar changed likenesses. And Sigurd taking upon him¬ 
self the shape and seeming of Gunnar, mounted Grani. Now 
when he had his master on his back, and felt his golden spurs, 
Grani leaped blithely into the fire. Fiercer the flames uprose 
and licked the sky; red rolled the clouds; the earth shook with 
the roaring of the fire. Yet Sigurd rode on, and w.ith his good 
sword Gram he cut the flames to right and left, and laid them 
low. So the fire slaked and he rode on and through, and reached 
the palace, where sate Brynhild in her byrnie, proud as swan on 
wave, her helmet on her head, her sword in hand. He lighted 
ofif his horse and came into the hall. 

She asked him, ‘ Who art thou ] What wouldest thou in my 
hall 1 ’ 

Sigurd answered, ‘I am Gunnar, son of King Giuki. For 
thee [ have ridden through the fire, and now I claim thee for 
my wife.’ 

Heavily she spake: ‘ I have little mind to wed. O, Gunnar, 
save thou be the best and chiefest among men I pray thee go 
thy way. For I have been in battle with the kings ; red is my 
sword with the blood of warriors ; and still I hanker after war.* 

He said, ‘I, Gunnar, have ridden through the fire for thee| 
and by thine oath, for weal or woe, do I constrain thee.’ 

Then because of her oath Brynhild rose from her seat and 
greeted him as her lord, and served him at the table. Three 
nights lay Sigurd beside her in her bed; but betwixt them he 
set his naked sword-blade. And when she would know why the 
sword lay there, he told her that so it was fated he should wed 
his tvife. 

And after three days when Sigurd would depart, Brynhild 
drew from her finger the ring which he had given her before—• 
the ring which Andvari had cursed—and set it for a pledge upoa 
his hand. He gave her another ring from Fafnir’s treasure; then 
rode back through the fire and came to Gunnar. The men 
changed semblances again and journeyed homeward. 


262 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then came Brynhild to Heimir her brother-in-law, saying, 
‘ Behold, a king named Gunnar rode through my fire. Truly I 
weened no man save Sigurd, my beloved, should have dared 
those flames. But Gunnar trode the fire and I am his.’ He 
answered, ‘Who can ever tell what shall be? Who can alter 
that which is 1 ’ 

Afterward King Giuki and Grimhild his queen held a great 
feast, and made a wedding for their son. King Budli came; with 
him his daughter Brynhild, and Atli her brother; Sigurd and 
Gudrun were there. Great was t.Ae joy at the feast, and great 
was the rejoicing throughout the realm, because Gunnar was 
married to the fair Brynhild. They twain sate together at the 
table in the mead-hall, and pledged each other in the wine-cup. 

But Sigurd went away apart and groaned in spirit; for at that 
feast his memory came back. He thought upon his broken 
oaths; knew what he had won and lost, and gloom fell on him. 

One day the two queens went batliing in the river together; 
and seeing Brynhild go much further out into the water than 
she dared venture, Gudrun asked wherefore she did this. Bryn¬ 
hild answered, ‘ Why should not I surpass thee in all things ? 
Thy husband is but King Hjalprek’s thrall. Mine is the foremost 
among men. Gunnar rode through the fire for me.’ 

Then Gudrun’s anger was kindled against Brynhild because 
she reviled her husband ; and she answered, ‘Were it not better 
to hold thy peace as I have done Why revilest thou my lord % 
Who but the slayer of Fafnir rode through thy fire and lay beside 
thee 1 Who but Sigurd the first of men 1 See on my hand the 
ring thou gavest him, Andvari’s ring ! ’ 

Very pale waxed Brynhild. She knew the ring; and answered 
not, but clad herself and went her way. 

Next day came Gudrun to Brynhild in her bower, saying, 
‘ Why grievest thou ] Hast thou not wedded him whom thou 
didst choose 1 My brother Gunnar is a mighty man. Sure there 
is none nobler in thine eyes, none dearer to thine heart,—not 
even Hjalprek’s thrall 1 ’ 

Then said Brynhild: ‘ Cruel and hard of heart art thou. Why 
wilt thou triumph over me 1 Thou hast taken my love, the 
noblest man upon the earth. I loved him because of his glory 
and his might. I love him yet, him only. What is Gunnar 
beside Sigurd ? Be satisfied; thou hast him. Love him, for 
thy time is short. Aye; take him fast within thine arms. But 
hold thy peace. Tempt me not on to break with Fate and snatch 
him from thee ere the hour be come. Yet how can I bear to 


263 


The Stories of the Volsungs, 

know thou hast him even for a little moment! Thou with thy 
littleness of heart and poverty of love! He with his mighty soul 
and peerless manliness! So cold a thing as thou couldst not have 
won the man that knew my burning love, save thou hadst 
drugged his mind to sleep and robbed his memory of my very 
name.’ 

Then went Brynhild up into her chamber, and fell down upon 
her bed. Wan as a dead woman she grew. She spake no word, 
because of the bitterness of the thoughts within her. Presently 
came Gunnar seeking what ailed her, and after he had urged her 
long, she cried, ‘ Go from me ! I am not thine. Thou didst not 
dare the fire. With guile hast thou gotten me \ with guile thy 
mother stole my troth-plight’s love from me. No king, no 
champion thou art, but a common man who in the danger time 
turns pale and quakes for fear. I swore to wed themoblest man 
alive; I loatlie thee since tliou art not he. Privily hast thou 
beguiled me, but openly and not without warning will I reward 
thee. Guard thyself quickly, for now is thy death-day come ! ’ 

Then leapt she from the bed and drew her sword, and fell 
upon King Gunnar, and straightway would have taken his life, 
but Hogni, his brother, came running in; and betwixt them 
they got her down and bound her fast. 

Nevertheless in a little while it repented Gunnar that he had 
bound her, and he came and set her free. Yet would not Bryn¬ 
hild any the more be appeased. She said, ‘Never again in bower 
or hail shall I make merry or be glad. No words of kindness 
shall I ever speak or hear. No more my fingers shall do woman’s 
work.’ Then went she to her needlework wherein were wrought 
in gold and divers colours Sigurd’s deeds, and rent it in pieces; 
and she passed up into her bower and set open the doors so 
that the noise of her wailing was heard afar; and ever she made 
her moan, ‘ Give me Sigurd, or I die.’ So she cried out in her 
bitter sorrow till, grief-wearied, she fell asleep. 

Seven days she slept, and none could waken her. Her bower- 
maidens feared greatly, and said one to another, ‘ The wrath of 
the gods has fallen on her.’ 

Wh^n Gudrun heard it she repented of her ill words, and had 
great pity of heart for Brynhild. And Gudrun went with Gunnar 
to seek to waken her, but in vain; and after that she came with 
Hogni, yet could they not get speech of her. Then Gudrun 
besought Sigurd to go, for she said, ‘ Peradventure thou wilt 
waken her; but 0, my lord, be tender to her, for her grief is 
very sore and hard to bear.’ So Sigurd went up into her 


264 Popular' Romances of the Middle Ages. 

cbarnber and lifted up his voice and cried, ‘Awake Brynhild! 
Fur the night is past and the sun sliineth all about thee. 
Brynhild heard his voice and opened her eyes. 

‘Why art thou comeV she said. ‘Too late hast thou re¬ 
membered me; for now thou art become the cause of all my 
pain.’ 

Sigurd answered. ‘Never had I aught but tenderness in my 
heart for thee ; but who can alter fate 1 What is, must needs be 
borne. Thou hast a noble husband; love him and be happy.’ 

‘ How canst thou counsel me so 1 ’ she said. ‘ Is the past all 
past 1 And hast thou clean forgot thy troth-plight; and how 
thou didst ride through the fire and win me for thine own 'I My 
eyes have long been veiled; and yet, methought that thou, not 
Gunnar, didst tread the flames and come into my hall. And 
now that I know it, I hate him bitterly.’ 

Then Sigurd said, ‘ I marvel that thou lovest not Gunnar, for 
he is a brave man; more to be desired is his love than much 
red gold. Wherefore turn thine heart toward him and forget all 
else.’ 

She said, ‘ 0 Sigurd, thou dost root all gentleness from out my 
breast. How canst thou teach me to love aught but thee 1 
Rather would I see my sword red with thy blood than hear this 
counsel from thy lips. For now am I become loathsome in thy 
sight; and thou knowest neither the heart that is in me, nor 
how fierce the love I bear thee.’ 

‘Brynhild,’ he said, ‘I loved thee better than my life; and 
when I found too late that I was beguiled, sore was my pain. 
But I have sought to live it down, and to put my trouble from 
me as a king should do. I pity thee, for I have borne a heavy 
heart full long.’ 

‘ Thy grief and pity come too late,’ she cried; ‘ thou art not 
mine but Gudrun’s; thou lovest her; wherefore my life is become 
hateful to me, and I will not live.’ 

He answered, ‘ It is true. Gudrun has grown dear to me ; I 
love her. Yet, rather than thou shouldest die I will put her 
away, and wed with thee.’ Thereat his heart so heaved within 
his breast that the rings of his mail-coat burst asunder. 

She cried, ‘I will not have thee. Thou lovest her. Go to 
her! Leave me to myself.’ 

With a heavy heart rose Sigurd and went his way. But 
Brynhild fell weeping afresh; and when her tears were done 
very dreadful grew her mind. Gunnar came to her, and she 
said, ‘Sigurd has talked with me, and I have showed him all 


The Stories of the Volsmigs. 265 

my heart. Little he careth for my pain since Gudrun has won 
his love away. He pities me, and bids me give my love to thee. 
Now he has gone to Gudrun, to tell my grief for her to mock at 
me. It is too hard to bear. She shall not have him! Either 
he, or I, or thou shalt die.’ 

Then spake Gunnar, ‘ How can I assuage thy sorrow ? For 
with all thy frowardness to me I love thee; yet for that same 
cause is my life grown burdensome.’ 

And Brynhild answered : ‘ I cannot bear that she should have 
my Sigurd and mock my woe. Gunnar, I loathe thee; yet if 
thou wouldst slay him in her arms, I feel almost that I could 
love thee. I should be merry at her grief. Go, slay him; else 
thou shalt lose thy kingdom and thy wealth, thy life and me; 
for of a truth I will not rest till I have shed thy blood. For 
myself, I care not; I shall go away and sleep aloim among my 
kin.’ 

Then was King Gunnar sore troubled. He thought, ‘Rather 
would I lay down my life than lose Brynhild, whose love is 
dearer to me than all else. Yet how can I break sworn oaths 
and promises given ’ So he came to his brother Hogni, and 
said, ‘ Much it grieveth me, but Sigurd must needs be slain; go 
thou and do it, for he is false and hath betrayed me to Brynhild.’ 
Hogni said, ‘ Nay, for we have pledged him our faith, and the 
sworn oath may not be broken.’ Howbeit they took counsel 
together, and determined to stir up their younger brother Guttorm 
to the deed, since he was clean of any oath to Sigurd. Then 
they fetched Guttorm and promised him power and dominion if 
he would do this thing; and they took and seethed him a 
pottage of wolf-meat and of strange worms and fish, and gave 
him to eat; so he grew fierce and thirsted after blood. 

In the morning came Guttorm stealthily to the door of the 
chamber where Sigurd was, and peeped in. Gudrun lay sleeping 
on his bosom; her white arms clasped about his neck. Twice 
Guttorm stole in at the door, and twice shrank back; for he 
thought he saw the glitter of his eyes. The third time he ran 
in, sword in hand, and thrust Sigurd through therewith, so that 
the sword smote fast into the bed and pinned him there. 
Guttorm turned to flee, but never reached the door; for Sigurd 
caught his sword Gram by the hilt and flung it after him, and 
cut him clean asunder at the waist; so he fell dead in the door¬ 
way, head and shoulders one way, and legs and groin the other. 
When Gudrun awoke from her soft sleep, and felt the blood all 
streaming about, and saw her lord death-smitten, she wept and 


266 Popiilm'’ Romances of the Middle Ages, 

bewailed so piteously that Sigurd as he lay a-dying lifted his 
head and kissed her. ‘ Weep not,’ he said ; ‘ death cometh to us 
all; this was foretold to me, hut when it drew near it was hidden 
from mine eyes lest I should fight with Fate. Brynhild has 
wrought my death because she loved me before all men ; yet 
little have I deserved this treachery from thy brethren.’ Sigurd 
closed his eyes ; fast ebbed the life-tide through his wound. He 
drew a weary breath, and yielded up the ghost. 

Then Gudrun in her sharp sorrow gave a very bitter cry. 
Brynhild heard it in her bower, and loud laughed she. Gunnar 
shuddered as he heard her laugh. But Brynhild, still laughing 
fiercely, went out and caught up Gudrun’s child and slew it. 

Now it came to pass when Gudrun sate over the dead body of 
her lord, that her anguish fell very heavy on her, so that she was 
like to die. She sighed not, nor moaned, neither smote she her 
hands together like other women. She shook as though her 
heart would break. But she could not weep. Many wise Yarls 
came seeking to comfort her. 

Hushed sate Gudrun ; she spake not; the tears came not. 

They said, ‘ Make her weep, or she will die.’ 

There came many noble Yarls’ wives arrayed with gold, and 
sate beside her. Each told the sharpest sorrow she had known. 
Giaflaug, Giuki’s sister, said, ‘Of husband and children have I 
been bereft; of all my brethren and sisters. Lo, I am left behind 
to mourn until I go to them.’ 

Gudrun wept not. 

Herborg, Queen of Hunland, said, ‘My husband and seven 
sons fell in one fight. A captive was I carried away into a 
strange land, and there they set me to tie the shoe-latchets of 
that king s wife who slew them all; often was 1 beaten with the 
lash, and then only did I dare to sorrow for m^ dead.’ 

Yet none the more might Gudrun Aveep ; so sad was she. 

Then Gullrond, Giuki’s daughter, came. She said, ‘No sorrow 
but her own will bring the tears.’ Down from the dead man’s 
face she drew the cere-cloth, and turned the death-cold cheek to 
Gudrun, saying, ‘ Sister, look on him! Come, lay thy lips to 
bis, and kiss him; for he loved thee well.’ 

She looked once only : saw the golden hair all stiff with blood; 
the body broken with the sword-rent. The tears upwelled and 
rained upon her knees. Fast wept Gudrun, Giuki’s daughter. 

Then she found words and spake: ‘ Like the bulrush towering 
from the grass, such was my Sigurd among Giuki’s sons. As a 
pearl of price upon a king’s brow, so glorious was my Sigurd 


267 


The Stories of the Volsungs, 

among men. How shall I sit upon my seat, or go up to my bed, 
and miss my Sigurd 'I Cursed be thou, Guiinar, for thy broken 
oaths! And cursed be the day when Sigurd saddled Grani to 
go a-wooing of Brynhild on the mountain! * Then cried Bryn- 
hild, ‘A curse 011 her who brought thy tears and gave thee speech 
again!’ And Gullrond said, ‘Hast thou no pity—no compassion? 
Away, thou bane of man, thou woe of woman I Luckless thou 
earnest to thy mother’s lap, born for the sorrow of all folk.’ 

Sigurd’s horse Grani, when he saw his master’s corpse, made 
such a pitiful crying that Gudrun was fain to go and speak with 
him, even as a man talks with his friend. But he drooped his 
head and sank down on the earth and died. 

By a pillar stood Brynhild, gazing on Sigurd’s wound, and 
gloating over the woe of Gudrun. Howbeit Brynhild went 
presently up into her chamber and fell weeping bitterly. Gunnar 
and Hogni came to her, but naught their words availed to soothe 
her dreadful mind. She said, ‘Sigurd is mine. Whither he 
goeth I will go; and none shall keep me from him now.’ 

Then Gunnar arose, and took her in his arms, and besought 
her that she would not die, but live, because of the love where¬ 
with he loved her. But she put him from her, and would suffer 
none to hinder her. Then commanded she her people to bring 
forth gold and scatter it about. And when they had done 
according to her will, she took a sword and thrust herself through 
therewith beneath the arm-pit, and sank upon her pillows saying, 
‘ Whoso will, let him come and take my gold and be glad 
thereof.’ 

Lying there, the while her blood flowed fast, Brynhild pro¬ 
phesied, and spake concerning all that should happen to the sons 
of Giuki and their kin, and of the sorrows yet in store for 
Gudrun. 

Then her voice grew very tender, and she said to Gunnar, 
‘ And now I beg the last boon I shall ask in this world. I pray 
thee raise a tall wood pile, and deck it royally about with shields 
and fair hangings. Uplift me thereon when I am dead, and 
bring Sigurd and lay him by my side. Only let there be set 
betwixt us a drawn sword, even as in those three days when we 
lay in one bed and were called man and wife together. So, as 
we go up to Valhalla, the shining door that openeth for him shall 
not swing to and shut me out.’ 

So saying, the life passed from her. Dead lay Brynhild on 
her pillows. Gunnar did all things as she had said. He built 
a mighty wood pile, hung round about with goodly hangings and 


268 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

strewn with treasure; with hawks and hounds at the head and 
foot. On the pile he laid Brynhild and Sigurd; betwixt them a 
drawn sword. Then kindled he the bale-fire. The flames arose 
and wrapped the pile, and roared up to the sky. So ended they 
their life-days. 


IV. THE FALL OF THE GIUKINGS. 

Now Gudrun, being very bitter against her brethren, went away 
alone to mourn for Sigurd, and made her dwelling in the woods. 
And after long abiding there, she wandered forth, and came to 
King Alf’s palace in Denmark, where, for seven years, she solaced 
her mind with setting forth in needlework of many colours the 
glorious deeds of kings and warriors. But when Queen Grimhild 
knew of her harbouring in Denmark she came journeying thither 
with her sons Gunnar and Hogni, and a great company of folk 
bringing gold and silver, seeking to make atonement to Gudrun 
for the slaying of her husband and her son. Softly they spake 
to her and would fain be reconciled. Howbeit Gudrun answered 
them nothing, and took no heed either of them or of their gifts. 

Then Grimhild mixed a cold drink, and bare to Gudrun in a 
horn whereon strange blood-red runes were cut about the rim. 
The might of earth and sea was mingled in that drink. And it 
befell when Gudrun had drank of it that the memory of her 
wrongs passed away, and she remembered no more the blood- 
guiltiness of her brethren towards her. So after they had held 
fellowship together and made good cheer, Grimhild spake to 
Gudrun to wed with Atli, Budli’s son, saying it would surely 
redound to the profit of them all, inasmuch as Atli was a king 
of great might. Gudrun was very loth thereto, thinking it an 
unseemly thing for her to wed with Brynhild’s brother; but they 
so beset her with promises and threats that at last she yielded, 
saying, ‘ Little joy and great sorrow will come of it.^ Lightly 
esteeming her words, they all made ready and set out and 
journeyed twelve days by land and sea, till they came to King 
Atli’s mead-hall. There the Gin kings gave their sister to Atli, 
to be his wife, and after the feast they rose up and departed to 
their own land. But Gudrun did not make merry, nor were her 
eyes bright like a bride’s, nor was her heart gladdened when she 
looked upon her husbani 



The Stories of the Volsungs, 269 

Years wore on and there was httle fondness betwixt the two. 
Many times Atli fell thinking of the treasure which Sigurd gat 
from Fafnir, and how by right it should have been Gudrun’s 
dower, whereas her brethren kept it back. i\nd when he coveted 
the treasure very sore, Atli determined to send out men to go to 
the Giukings and bid them to a feast. But Gudrun got wind of 
it, and fearing some treachery to her brethren, took a gold ring 
and cut runes thereon to warn them not to come: and she 
knitted a wolf’s hair in the ring and gave it to the messengers 
to take to Gunnar. But while they were on the journey, one of 
the messengers more subtile than the rest, by name Vingi, per¬ 
ceived how the runes ran; and he meddled with them in such 
wise as to make it seem as if Gudrun in her runes had prayed 
her brethren to come. 

The messengers being come to Gunnar and Hogni in their 
mead-hall, the kings outpoured the wine and bade them welcome. 
And when the message was delivered, Hogni took his sister’s 
ring and read the runes; but misdoubting them, he said, ‘Brother, 
truly Gudrun in her runes saith “ Comebut what meaneth 
this wolf’s hair in the ring, save a warning that Atli is minded 
as a wolf toward us % ’ Gunnar hearkened not. Merry over the 
mead he sate and listened whilst the smooth-tongued Vingi told 
how Atli was grown old, how his young children could not ward 
the realm, and how the purport of the bidding was to make the 
Giukings rulers over all the land. Loud laughed Gunnar, carous¬ 
ing with the messengers, and he raised aloft the mead-horn and 
passed his word to go. Hogni liked it not. He said: ‘Too 
rashly hast thou pledged; but this being so, I will go with thee; 
yet very loth am I to the journey.’ 

Many tokenings there were of ill. Hogni’s wife, Kostbera, who 
was skilled in runes, perceived that someone had tampered with 
the letters upon Gudrun’s ring, and this she told Hogni plainly. 
Moi<eover, Kostbera dreamed of a rushing river that broke through 
the mead-hall, and of fire that burned the roof-tree; of a bear 
that overthrew the king’s high seat, and of an erne that trampled 
women down and drenched them with warm blood. But Hogni 
made light of the dreams, or expounded them away in other 
fashion: for to none is it given to swerve from the fate shapen for 
him. In like manner Glaumvor, Gunnar’s wife, told her lord what 
she had dreamed. She said: ‘Methought I saw thee thrust 
through with a bloody sword, at either end whereof wolves howled. 
Sure that betokeneth somewhat V ‘ Aye,’ Gunnar said, ‘ a bloody 
sword betokeneth the biting of curs. A dog, perchance, shall snap 


2 70 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

at me.’ She said, ‘ But I dreamed again, and lo ! three silent 
women, veiled and gloomy, came and chose thee for their mate. 
Methought they were thy fates.’ He answered : ‘ Who can tell ? 
It may be that my life-days are but few.’ And when he rose up 
in the morning, he called his men about him and said, Come let 
us drink the goodliest wine from out the big old tuns, for may 
happen this shall be the last of all our feasts together.’ 

That same day Gunnar and Hogni gatliered their folk together 
and took ship with the messengers. Hard they rowed across the 
sea-plain till they saw land, and brought the ship ashore; then 
leaped upon their steeds, and journeyed through the murky wood¬ 
land. At last they came out into open country. In front they 
saw a mighty host of men which King Atli had arrayed, and heard 
from afar the clanging of their weapons. Fast were the burg gates 
and full of men; but the Giukings brake down the gates and came 
into the burg. Then spake Vingi: ‘ How softly and with what 
sweet words did I beguile you hither ! But now, tarry here a 
little, while I go and choose your gallows-tree.’ Hogni luiswered: 

‘ Little shall it avail thee to have beguiled us,’ and so saying cast 
Vingi to the ground, and slew him with the hammer of his axe. 

Then rode they to the king’s hall, where sat Atli with his men 
about him. Atli gave them no greeting, but said : ‘ Deliver up 
Sigurd’s gold ; for it is Gudrun’s portion, and long have I been 
minded to be lord thereof.’ Gunnar answered: ‘ Thou shalt never 
have that gold ; and if that be the purport of thy feast behold we 
are men of might, and shall not shrink to deal with thee in this 
matter.’ 

Straightway uprose the king and his men, and fell upon the 
Giukings. The tables were overset, the mead-cups rolled upon 
the floor. Hot waxed the fighting in the hall, and quickly spread 
about the burg. Gudrun heard tidings of it, and flung off her 
mantle and ran into the battle. Tenderly she kissed both her 
dear brethren, and said : ‘Vain was my warning, for how shall a 
man avoid his lot ] But yet there is time to seek for peace.’ 
‘ Too late,’ they answered, ‘ for blood is outpoured, and many sleep 
the sword-sleep.’ Then Gudrun put on a mail-coat and took a 
sword and fought beside her brethren, brave as they. Men fell 
fast on either side, and heaped the place with dead; the blood ran 
all about and mingled with the mead. Gunnar and Hogni went 
to and fro through Atli’s folk, and wheresoever they went they 
reaped and men went down. At mid-day there was a lull in the 
battle; bitter was Atli’s mind at the thinning of his host, yet still 
they were a host, the Giukings but a handful. Then they fell to 


The Stories of the Volsu 7 igs. 271 

again. Atli cried on his men to drive the Giukings from the hall, 
and overwhelm, them on the plain ; but so hard the Giukings 
pressed on Atli’s folk that they drave them back into the hall 
again. Then began within doors the fiercest of fights. Gunnar 
and his warriors hewed ever with their swords, but fast as they 
slew their enemies, fresh men poured in to take the places of them 
which fell. So at length when Gunnar would gather his folk 
together, he looked about and saw only his brother Hogni left 
alive. Then they twain set them back to back, and fought for 
their lives right manfully. But first Gunnar was hemmed in and 
taken alive. After that, Hogni slew a score of Atli’s stoutest 
champions, and cast well nigh as many into the fire that burned 
in the midst of the hall: yet in the end he likewise was borne 
down by numbers, and with his brother bound in chains. 

Atli was very wroth, and spake to Hogni saying, ‘.T!^ow will I 
cut the heart out from thee before thine eyes, because by thy hand 
60 many of my champions lie bereft of life.’ Hogni answered : 

‘ Do it, and thou shalt see a heart that never quailed.’ But one 
came to Atli and counselled him saying, ‘ Let us rather take and 
put the thrall Hjalli to death : for naught else is he fit, and there 
is no ransoming to be gotten for him.’ When Hjalli the thrall 
heard this, he began to cry aloud, weeping and screaming and 
bewailing himself or ever he felt the point of the knife: for an 
evil and a bitter thing it seemed to him to be cutoff for ever from 
life and from the feeding of swine. Hogni, hearing him shriek 
and yell, pleaded for the man’s life, saying that he would blithely 
endure that or any other death himself, if thereby he might be 
delivered from the thrall’s uproar. So for that time Hjalli’s life 
was spared. 

Then were Gunnar and Hogni led away to prison in their 
fetters, and put in dungeons apart the one from the other. And 
King Atli came to Gunnar in his prison, saying, ‘ Tell me con¬ 
cerning Sigurd’s gold, where thou hast hidden it, and I will spare 
thy life.’ Gunnar answered : ‘ I will tell thee nothing unless I 
first behold the heart of Hogni my brother.’ 

Atli’s men went and laid hold of the thrall and cut the heart 
out of him, and brought it to King Gunnar. But when he saw it, 
Gunnar said, ‘ That is a thrall’s heart; it is the faint heart of 
Hjalli. See how it trembleth now; yet not so much as when it 
dwelt within his breast.’ 

Then went they unto Hogni in his prison. Hogni flinched not 
Loud laughed he while they cut the heart from out of him, so that 
all wondered at the might of his manhood. They brought the 


272 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

heart to Gunnar, and he said, ‘ That is a brave king’s heart; it is 
the stout heart of Hogni my brother. Little it trembleth now ; 
and less it trembled when it lay within his breast.’ Then Atli 
asked him, ‘ Tell me now where is thy gold V But Gunnar 
laughed him to scorn, saying, ‘ While Hogni was yet alive I feared, 
betwixt the two of us, lest the matter should leak out. Now, I 
alone know where the treasure is ; and the secret is safe.’ 

Then waxed King Atli very wroth, and he commanded his 
servants and they took Gunnar and bound his hands fast with 
cords and cast him into a pit of vipers. Howbeit Gudrun let a 
harp down to him in the pit, and thereon King Gunnar harped so 
skilfully with his feet that none hearing it would deem other than 
that he played with his hands. And with the might of his music 
he charmed the vipers to sleep, all save one old and deadly adder 
which twined up his breast and smote its sting into him that he 
died. 

After these things King Atli grew highly exalted, and was fain 
to make himself great in Giidrun’s eyes because he had slain her 
brethren. And since Gudrun made no complaining, but rather 
behaved herself kindlier to the king, saying that since all her 
kindred were dead and gone she had now none else to hold to but 
her husband, Atli deemed her heart was rightwise toward him. 
So when Gudrun would make a great funeral feast for her brethren, 
he hearkened gladly, and sent and summoned all his chief men 
from far and near to come to the mead-hall. Very great and 
sumptuous he made that feast, for the glory of himself and of his 
kingdom. And after meat, when all sat drinking round the board, 
the king spake to Gudrun to fetch their children to the table, for 
he said, ‘ It will gladden my heart to look upon the sons of thee 
and me while we make merry with the wine.’ She answered 
him, ‘ Thy sons are here. Behold, their skulls are beakers at thy 
board; their blood is mingled with the wine which thou hast 
drunk; their hearts I roasted on a spit, and thou hast eaten 
thereof. So was I set to do thee as great shame as I might; yet 
in nowise shall the measure of thy deeds be full.’ Then the king 
grew sick at heart, and said, ‘ Quick and bloody has been thy 
vengeance ; but for this deed of thine most meet it were to stone 
thee and burn thy body on the bale-fire.’ She answered, ‘ For 
me another death is shapen, but see thou rather and foretell thine 
own.’ 

Now Hogni had a son named Niblung. He came to the feast, 
the heart within him burning to requite his father’s death; and 
Gudrun and he took counsel together how they might bring it 


273 


The Stoi'ies of the Volsiings, 

about. So at night, when the king had well drunk and was gone 
up to his bed, they both came stealing into the chamber where 
he lay. Gudrun bare a sword in her hand, and Hogni’s son 
grasped both hand and hilt in his, and together they drave it into 
the king’s breast. Awaking with the wound, King Atli cried, 
‘Who art thou that hast done this deed?' There came the 
answer, ‘ I, Gudrun, thrust somewhat wdth my hand; somewhat 
the son of Hogni thrust; and we are both avenged ! ’ Then Atli 
besought her with his last breath, saying, ‘Kow that the wrong 
betwixt us has been fully requited, I pray thee do no despite 
unto my dead corpse, but make me a kingly funeral.* When she 
had so promised him, King Atli died. And Gudrun did accord¬ 
ing to her word, for she and Hognfs son went out quickly and 
kindled the palace all about. Within were all the nobles and 
the mighty men of Atli's realm; and when they woke and felt 
the flames they ran hither and thither in their distress, and smote 
each other down or fell upon their swords rather than abide the 
fire. So perished Atli and all his folk with him. 

Then Gudrun, grown weary of her life and longing to die, 
came down to the sea-shore where the billows tumbled round the 
rocks and boiled upon the beach. Within her arms she clasped 
great stones and cast herself into the sea. Yet would not the 
sea drown her; the waves upbore her on their crests and carried 
her far away to the burg of King Jonakr. He took Gudrun to 
wife, and she bare him three children whose names were Hamdir, 
Saurli, and Erp. 

Now Gudrun had by Sigurd a daughter called Swanhild ; and 
she sent across the sea and fetched her to Jonakr’s court. Swan¬ 
hild was an exceeding fair woman, with eyes bright like her 
father’s, so that few durst gaze up into them. And it came to 
pass that a certain King Jormunrek, hearing how she far excelled 
all other women as the sun outshines the stars of the firmament, 
sent by the hands of Randver his son, and Bikki his counsellor, 
seeking her in marriage. And Jonakr and Gudrun, thinking it 
an alliance of great honour, gave Swanhild to them to be Jor- 
munrek’s wife, and the maiden sailed away wdth them in their 
ship. But wliile they were upon the voyage Bikki counselled 
Randver the king’s son, saying, ‘ Why take so lovely a woman to 
that old man thy father to be his wife % More meet it were to 
woo her for thyself.’ And the saying pleased Randver; and with 
many sweet words he began to woo Swanhild; in like manner 
also she answered him again. Nevertheless as soon as they were 
come to land Bikki went to the king and said, ‘ Truly a hard 

S 


2 74 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

thing it is to speak evil of the king’s son, and much it goeth 
Against me ; but Kandver has altogether estranged away the love 
of Swanhild from thee, and has taken her to wife himself to thy 
great dishonouring/ So Jormunrek’s anger burned fiercely 
against his son, and he sent out straiglitw'ay and had him hanged 
to a tree. Then by the counselling of Bikki was Swanhild bound 
hand and foot and led forth to the gate of the burg; and they 
brought wild horses and drave them at her to tread her down. 
But Swanhild looked upon the horses, and they shrank back 
because of the bright shining of her eyes; neither durst they 
come near her till Bikki fetched a bag and drew it over her head; 
then the horses ran in and trampled her to death. 

'When Gudrun heard what had befallen, she went to her sons 
Hamdir and Saurli, saying, ‘ What do ye here, rejoicing and 
making merry all the day % Eise up and go and avenge your 
sister upon Jormunrek the king! ’ But they dallied about and 
had no lieart for the enterprise. Then Gudrun gave them strong 
drink from out of big flagons, and furnished them with weapons, 
and with coats of mail so cunningly fashioned that steel would 
not bite thereon. So they set forth on their errand; but on the 
way meeting Erp their brother, they asked him, ‘ How wilt thou 
help us in this business'!’ And when he answered, ‘As hand 
helps hand, and as foot helps foot,’ they deemed lightly of his 
help, and turned on him, and slew him for a fool. Presently as 
they went their way both brothers stumbled, but Hamdir saved 
himself with his hand and Saurli with his foot. Wherefore they 
tliought ‘ Such help as Erp had promised us was not to be despised.’ 
liowbeit they journeyed till they came to King Jormunrek’s hall, 
and they went in and fell upon him both together. Hamdir cut 
ofi* the king’s hands and Saurli his feet. Then said Hamdir, ‘ His 
head likewise might we have cut off were Erp our brother here.’ 
But by this they had to turn and fight with many warriors who 
ran in to slay them. Long they battled in the hall and smote 
down many a champion, till Jormunrek’s folk waxed disheartened, 
because neither steel nor iron would bite upon their mail. Then 
came there into the hall a certain old man, one-eyed and austere 
to look upon, who said, ‘ Smite them witli stones, so shall you 
bring these men to their end,’ and passed out; neither wist any 
whither he went. So they took up stones and stoned Hamdir 
and Saurli that they died. 

Now Gudrun when she knew of it, went into the fore-court of 
the palace, u,iid sat musing how all her kindred, root and branch, 
v’ere clean perished from off the face of the earth, and how she 


The Stories of the Volsiings. 275 

alone was left of all the Giiikings. Heavily she called to mind 
the many things which she had suffered, and being tired of heart 
and very weary, she sorrowed not to feel death creep upon her. 
And at the last all the troubles of her latter days seemed blotted 
out, and her mind went back to Sigurd. She said, ‘ O Sigurd, 
remember the pledge thou madest me when we were man and 
wife together. Now from thy sombre dwelling-place among the 
dead come forth and look on me a-dying: lift me in thy shadowy 
arms and bear me tenderly to HeVs pale kingdom !’ So the words 
of her mourning had an end. 

High they reared the oak-pile, higher than any queen had 
heretofore: swift burned the fire and thawed her sorrow-bounden 
heart; black the smoke-clouds rolled and billowed all along the 


‘Srilf ^ibdung ftorji, 


1 THE WEDDING OF THE QUEENS. 

In a palace by the Ehine, at Worms in Burgundy, dwelt fair 
Kriemhild, the loftiest lady in all Khineland. Her brothers 
were three mighty men who knew how to guard her well; 
Gunther and Gemot well proven in fight, and young Giselher 
lithe as a sapling tree. As for the liegemen whom they ruled, no 
king of any country had men like their uncle Hagan and his 
brother Dankwart, Ortwine of Metz, Volker, Kumold and Hunold, 
and many more such champions. 

With a strong hand reigned the brothers. They kept a sumptuous 
court, laughing all ill to scorn ; they ate, they drank, they fought 
in sport for lack of foes j their enemies feared them, and their 
people abode in peace. 

One night there came a dream to the lady Kriemhild as she 
lay sleeping in her beautiful palace. She dreamed that she had 
taken a young falcon and nourished it for a long season till it 
grew 'very dear to her, when suddenly two eagles darted down 
and tare it to pieces before her eyes. Weeping she awoke, and 
coming to her mother, Uta, told her dream. Her mother said, 
‘ I read it thou wilt take a mate, and sorrow shall come of it. 
God’s pity, child, on the man on whom thou settest thy mind ! ’ 
Kriemhild answered, ‘ If that be all, fear nothing, mother, for I 
will never wed ; so none shall suffer ill for me.’ ‘ Aye, child,’ 
said her mother, ‘ ’tis well enough to talk, but wedlock hath 
many pleasures, and we weary of a lonely life. And then, how 
fair thou art! God send thee a proper mate, my daughter, and 
thou wilt forget thy dreams.’ ‘ Peace, mother. Pain evermore 
dogs pleasure’s steps. I will have neither pain nor pleasure. I will 
live and die a maid, and so cheat sorrow.’ Thus for a long -wdiile 
Kriemhild remained heart-whole in the palace, gay and frank of 
speech with all men, but favouring none. 

Away in the Netherland, in a castle called Xanten, on the 



The Nibelung Story, 277 

Rhine-side, lived the young prince Siegfried, a stainless youth, 
so comely he was dear to all maidens, and so strong he was the 
pride of all men. One midsummer his father, King Siegmund, 
made him knight, and held high mass and royal festival with a 
seven days’ feast in honour of his dubbing. How willingly the 
noblest maidens plied the needle to broider jewelled vestments for 
him to put on that day ! How many hundred noble knighte 
came up to tourney at the feast! What a glad woman was his 
mother. Queen Sieglind, when she saw her boy bear down the 
doughtiest of them, and bravely win his knighthood ! 

The feast being over, Siegfried set forth upon his travels, and 
wandered through many lands, winning everywhere great renown. 
Once as he journeyed he came to a hill-side where the fierce Nibe¬ 
lung and his brother Schilbung disputed as they counted a great 
treasure heap in front of a cave. These two brothers offered him 
their father’s great sword Balmung, if he would divide'the trea¬ 
sure between them. So Siegfried set to work at the task. But 
never was seen so great treasure: of precious stones there were at 
least a hundred waggon loads, and of red gold very much more. 
Siegfried began patiently to reckon up the gems and golden orna¬ 
ments, but as weeks went by he began to find that his lifetime 
would not suffice to count so great riches. Then, angry at the 
delay, both brothers set on him with all their band; but Sieg¬ 
fried, gripping the sword Balmung, slew them both and put their 
men to flight. And after that he slew twelve of the Nibelungers’ 
champions and seven hundred of their chiefs. Then waged he 
battle with the mighty dwarf Alberich, and overcame him, and 
took from him his cloudcloak; and he assembled all the Nibe¬ 
lungers and made them carry the treasure back into the cave 
again ; and Alberich made he keeper of the treasure. So he won 
the countless hoard of gems and gold and the sword Balmung, 
and won the Nibelung land. Afterwards he slew a poison-spit¬ 
ting dragon, and bathed in the blood, whereby his skin being 
turned to horn no weapon would harm him. 

When Siegfried came home again he heard folk talk of Kriem- 
hild of Burgundy, how beautiful she was, yet so coy withal that 
she would listen to no man’s wooing; and without heeding his 
father’s warnings he chose eleven comrades, and, having clad them 
in the richest armour there was in the palace, took his journey to 
Worms, determined to win this damsel for his wife. 

King Gunther and his uncle Hagan from the palace window 
tii ./ them coming, and knew him for the famous man whose deeds 
Were talked of far and wide. Wherefore when they rode into the 


278 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

hall the king received them courteously; and Siegfried and hia 
comrades bowed themselves before King Gunther. And Gunther 
spake, saying, ‘Siegfried is welcome here; yet still we marvel 
what he would seek at Worms upon the Rhine.’ 

He answered : ‘ It is not my wont to hide a matter. Men told 
me that you have strong champions in Burgundy, and I am come 
to see. They say that you, IHng Gunther, are a man strong in 
fight. I too am a warrior; and, like you, have land and treasure 
in abundance. I shall rule my father’s kingdom; and when I sit 
upon his throne I would have the people say of me, “He has 
nobly won us lands and liegemen.” Wherefore, hear my purpose; 
I care not if you take it well or ill. I come to see whether of us 
twain is the stronger; I come to win your castles and your land 
and all that you possess, and to have you for my vassal.’ 

The king could hardly speak for anger, and the champions 
about him murmured loud. 

Siegfried said : ‘ If you cannot keep your kingdom against all 
comers, let me rule it, for I can. But if you will fight, let your 
broad lands and mine be thrown into the scale, and whoso over- 
corn eth, let him be master over all.’ 

Then spake Gernot: ‘ Our lands are broad enough for us; we 
need no more. We are not for seizing a neighbour’s land; being 
rightful masters of our own we are content.’ 

Grimly strode forward the burly Ortwine, Knight of Metz, say¬ 
ing, ‘ Who is this man that defieth the king ? ’ 

Then answered Siegfried : ‘ Who is he ? A king. A mere 
king’s man art thou : go, bring a dozen of thy fellows if thou 
wouldest fight with me.’ 

Thereon Ortwine called aloud for some to bring his weapons; but 
Gernot said, ‘ Peace : the man is a stranger and a guest; it may 
be we shall yet make friends with him. Small honour would be 
gained, good sooth, to slay a guest.’ In like manner went Gernot 
to the other warriors, and forbade them to answer Siegfried’s 
defiance, or take offence ; and so stayed the broil. 

Then King Gunther led Siegfried to the banquet-table, and 
when the wine was poured said, ‘All that is ours is at your friendly 
service whenever in honour you choose to claim it.’ And Sieg¬ 
fried being thereby appeased in mood, sat down to the feast, and 
afterwards joined the three brothers and their warriors in knightly 
sports. But whatsoever the pastime, wdiether hurling the stone, 
or flinging spear, or combat with the sword, there was none that 
could approach him. Fair Kriemhild, looking from her window, 
beheld a man of nobler presence and handsomer countenance than 


The Nibelung Story, 2 79 

she ha*3 ever seen; saw him foremost in all the games ; watched 
him overcome her brothers and the strong champions of her land; 
and her eyes were never satisfied with beholding him. 

Siegfried remained a long while at Gunther’s court, yet caught 
never so much as a glimpse of the fair maiden on whom his heart 
was set. Then came tidings how Ludeger the Saxon and Lude- 
gast King of Denmark had leagued together to come up against 
Jjurgundy with forty thousand men. And while Gunther and 
his brothers were ill at ease because of the tidings, Siegfried said, 
‘ Leave me to deal with them. Stay you at home and frolic at 
your ease. I will take my eleven comrades, and a thousand of 
your men, and will go and meet these kings. Take you no 
further thought about the business.’ 

So Siegfried went forth as he had said, with his comrades and 
only a thousand men; Hagan and Ortwine, Dankwart. Sindold 
and Volker going also with him. In Saxony they met the host, 
and right well Siegfried proved his manhood, while all the 
champions of King Gunther marvelled at his deeds. They utterly 
routed their enemies and lost but sixty men. They took Ludeger 
and Ludegast alive, and brought them home with five hundred 
captives to the city of Worms. Then all the maidens flocked to 
hear, each what her knight had done in battle ; only Kriemhild 
durst not come forth, but lovelorn abode in her bower and longed 
to know. Stealthily she sent for a youth who had seen the fight, 
and lightly asked him, ‘ I would know how the battle went, and 
how my brother Gemot fought, and if Hagan and Dankwart were 
brave.’ He answered, ‘ There was not a coward in the fight; 
Gernot did well, and so did Hagan and Dankwart and Ortwine; 
but what were they, with all their prowess, to the Netherlandish 
knight! The like was never seen. Alone he brake the Saxon 
ranks, and with his own hand smote down Ludeger and took 
Ludegast prisoner. No mass of men could hem him in. Ask 
Ortwine or Hagan ; all say the victory was Siegfried’s. There is 
no man like Siegfried in all our host.’ Then Kriemhild’s glad 
cheek blushed rosy red at hearing Siegfried’s praise, and she said 
to the youth, ‘ Take these ten marks of gold and a broidered 
vesture for thy pains.’ He, wondering, went his way, while 
Kriemhild fed her mind with thinking on Siegfried’s deeds. 

Weeks wore on, yet Siegfried saw her not; till weary of wait^ 
ing and yet too proud to speak his wish, he thought to go back 
to Netherland. But it fell out that Gunther asked Ortwine how 
he should make the Whitsun feast more famous in honour of their 
victory, and Ortwine answered, ‘ What more ennobles chivalry 


28 o Popular Romajtces of the Middle Ages. 

than for knights to have fair maidens’ eyes upon them at the 
tourney or the feast h Wherefore bid the lady Uta, and your 
sister Kriemhild and all fair dames and damsels, be there.’ There¬ 
fore came Kriemhild forth from her bower walking to court in 
royal state, a hundred knights and a hundred damsels at her side. 
Fair as the morning when the sun makes clouds to blush and 
quenches all the stars, so Siegfried saw her, and looking, saw not 
her queenly raiment nor the sparkle of her jewels for the glory of 
her radiant face. Then gazing yet, he feared before her l)eaiity 
and her royalness, and mused, ‘ How could 1 dare have thought 
to woo her.’ So he stood stock-still, glowing white and red by 
turns, while spite of all his fear, his heart said, ‘ Give her up i 
Nay; rather die.’ 

Gernot came to his brother Gunther and said, ‘ Brother, by way 
of requiting Siegfried for what he has done for us, bid him come 
and be greeted by Kriemhild before all the people. To be greeted 
of her, who never yet greeted knight, will make this peerless 
warrior wholly ours.’ And Gunther, thinking it would prove 
greatly to the profit of their kingdom, sent the noblest of his 
kinsmen to bid Siegfried to the court. 

Glad was Siegfried, and he made haste and came to the court 
and stood before Kriemhild,—his face all aglow, his cheeks hot as 
lire beneath her love-bright eyes whereon he dared not look. 
Then Kriemhild softly said, ‘ Sir Siegfried, you are welcome— 
good and noble knight.’ Thereon he raised his eyes, and as he 
looked in hers and she in his, both learned in silence all that 
either longed to know. Then as her brothers charged her, Kriem¬ 
hild stooped from her high seat and kissed the knight in presence 
of all the people. Proudly Sir Siegfried lifted up his head, well 
paid for all his pains ; while she sat blushing, but with pride 
alone, well knowing she had greeted the manliest man in all the 
court. 

Then were the folk charged to make way for Kriemhild to go 
to the minster. But all the while the mass was singing Sir 
Siegfried chafed impatient of the song—and she the same—till 
after mass he came and stood beside her at the altar. Then 
Kriemhild took his hand, saying, ‘ God reward you, brave knight, 
for what you have done for Rhineland; for all men speak of your 
fame and worship as it well deserves in my esteem.’ He, love- 
bewildered, looked into her eyes and answered, ‘ Dear lady Kriem¬ 
hild, I will ever serve your brethren to my best, both day and 
night for your sweet sake.’ 

. All twelve days of the feast it was awarded to Siegfried to walk 


28 i 


The Nibelung Story, 

with Kriemhild and her train each day from her palace to the 
court. And when the feast was over they ransomed King Lude- 
ger and King Ludegast at the price of five hundred mules’ weight 
of gold, and made a covenant with them not to make war again on 
Burgundy, and sent them away. Then one by one the warriors 
took their leave to journey home; and Siegfried, sore against his 
will, ordered forth his steeds to go back to Netherland. But 
young Giselher won him to remain, saying, ‘ Tarry on with us ; 
we have noble warriors and fair maidens for your company; and 
for our friendship’s sake I do constrain you.’ So Siegfried ordered 
back the horses and lingered on. What wonder, since he saw 
fair Kriemhild every day. 

Now there lived in Issland beyond the sea a certain war-maiden, 
Queen Brynhild, who was not only very beautiful but so strong 
that she could hurl the spear and throw the stone further than 
any knight. And it was noised abroad that she would only wed 
the mail that conquered her at three warlike games; but whoso 
tried and failed should suffer death for penalty. Thus many 
sought to win her heart and lost their heads, yet murmured not 
since death came from a hand so fair. And when Gunther would 
take a wife to be queen over Bhineland, he became love-struck at 
hearing the fame of Brynhild, and nothing would do but he must 
go and strive to win her. And Siegfried, when he knew it, spake 
to Gunther, saying, ‘ Go not. I tell you it is in vain. I know 
this terrible battle-maiden; four men could not withstand her 
furious strength.’ Yet would not Gunther be persuaded, but 
said, ‘ Unless I win her, my good days are past. I can but die 
if she should vanquish me, and if I have her not I would not 
live. Only help me in this enterprise and I will hold nothing 
too dear for thy reward.’ Siegfried answered, ‘ Give me Kriem¬ 
hild thy sister for my wife, and I will help thee, and will bring 
this thing to pass.’ And Gunther made a covenant with him, 
saying, ‘ I will surely give thee my sister on the day that Bryn¬ 
hild cometh into Ehineland.’ Then they took counsel concerning 
the manner of their going. Gunther was for taking a great army 
across the sea, but Siegfried said, ^ That would not avail against 
this mighty queen; her warriors are many; and the contest is 
with her alone. We will travel thither with only Sir Hagan and 
Sir Dankwart for company. Trust me, no thousand champions 
will care to fight us four. And since in Brynhild’s land the 
w^arriors are most sumptuously arrayed, we will put on the fairest 
apparel that can be got, so we be not put to shame before her 
lieges.’ For seven weeks Krieinhild and hef maidens WTOUght 


282 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

precious vestments for the warriors, three changes for every (iay; 
rich garments of silk, trimmed with ermine and skins of birds 
and fish from distant lands, and sewn with precious stones and 
golden thread. And when the work was done and the warriors 
had arrayed themselves, Kriemhild gave her brother into Siegfried’s 
charge, saying, ‘ I pray thee see no harm befall him from fierce 
Brynhild’s handand this he promised her. Then went they 
down to the ship, and Siegfried took the helm and steered along 
the Khine. On the twelfth morning they saw a mighty fortress 
on a rock, and fair broad lands with castles all along the coast; 
and Siegfried said, ‘ That is Brynhild’s fortress, Isenstein ; those 
are her lands and castles.’ Then charged he his companions that 
they should say when they landed, ‘ Gunther is master, Siegfried 
is but his man.’ 

They came ashore and saw a three-fold palace with more than 
fourscore turrets. The castle gates flew open and the warders 
took from each man his horse and shield. Then the chamberlain 
required them to lay aside their weapons; and when Hagan 
would not at first, Siegfried told him it was the usage of the 
maiden’s court; so, grumbling he obeyed. 

Queen Brynhild sat in a fair wide hall of pure green marble, 
her maidens round her. One came and told her of the guests; 
she asked who they were; he answered, ‘ I know them not, save 
only that one is like Siegfried of the Netherland.’ Then said 
Brynhild, ‘Bring hither my armour, for great as is Siegfried’s 
renown I fear him not so deeply as to yield to be his wife.’ 
And Brynhild girt on her golden breastplate and an Indian silk 
surcoat which no steel could cut, and coming forth from her hall 
at the head of five hundred chosen warriors, drew near to 
Siegfried, saying ‘ Welcome brave warrior; tell me now thine 
errand.’ 

Siegfried answered, ‘ Pardon, fair lady, but thy greeting be- 
fitteth rather my master, King Gunther, who for love of thee 
comes hither from Rhineland, and will never return, so he has 
sworn, till he can take thee with him as his bride. I am but his 
man.’ 

Then said Brynhild, ‘ If he be thy master and thou art but his 
man, let him now play with me at three war-games. If he con¬ 
quer me in all I will not scorn to be his wife, but if he fail in 
one, m.aster and men shall die. He must cast the stone with me, 
and leap with me, and fling the javelin.’ 

'I'hen Siegfried whispered to Gunther, ‘ Fear not, for I will 
hold you harmless.’ So Gunther answered her, ‘ Fair Brynhild 


The Nibehing Story. 283 

for yonr beauty’s sake, willingly shall I dare the contest and the 
penalty.’ 

A ring was marked. Seven hundred harnessed champions 
gathered round to see the fray. Meanwhile Sir Siegfried hasted 
to the ship, and from a secret corner there drew forth the cloud- 
cloaV which he won from the dwarf Alberich, keeper of the 
Nibelungs’ treasure, and put it on:—such was the virtue of the 
cloak that it gave its wearer the strength of twelve strong men, 
yet hid him like a cloud from all men’s gaze. 

To the ring came Brynhild, gold spangles glittering on her 
silken surcoat; and, rising and falling with her eager breath, 
the silken vesture gave glimpses of her snowy skin. Four 
servants staggered bearing her huge golden shield, steel-studded, 
three spans thick; its thong a leathern band, grass-green with 
emeralds. Three men scarce bore along the javelin which she 
used to fling; its point three weights of iron welded into one, 
and sharpened deadly keen. Twelve brawny knights panted 
beneath the load of the great round stone which she hurled ; and 
when they let it down it shook the solid ground. 

Then said Dankwart, ‘ Better we had stayed at home, where 
once we passed for warriors, than die disgraced before a woman 
without a struggle for it.’ 

‘Woman! good lack,’ cried Hagan—‘a bride for a fiend. 
One thing is certain; were I Gunther I could deem it sweeter 
to sleep the sword-sleep at her hand than lie with such a darling 
at my side. Yet, had we our arms and harness on our backs to 
help our king, methinks we might abase this maiden’s pride.’ 

Brynhild heard his words, and looking over her shoulder, 
answered in scorn, ‘ Go get them; I will deny nothing to my 
guests. Your puny help will succour him perchance as much as 
it will trouble me.’ So they armed themselves and stood beside 
Gunther. Brynhild at the far end of the ring, her snow white 
arms all bare, was poising the spear in hand. Straightway 
Siegfried in his cloud-cloak came up unseen, and touched Gunther 
on the hand. The king looked round but saw no man. He said, 
‘ Who touched me 1 ’ Siegfried answered, ‘ Hist! It is I, Sieg¬ 
fried, thy friend. Quick; unsling thy buckler; give it me to 
bear. Do as I bid thee. Make thou the gestures ; leave me the 
contest.’ 

With all her might the strong maid flung the massy si)ear. 
It crashed into the buckler, yet Siegfried’s hand which bare it 
shook not, though the two men staggered with the blow. Then 
whilst Gunther made as though he would pull out the spear from 


284 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

the shield, Siegfried, unseen in his cloud-cloak, plucked it forth 
and hurled it butt-end foremost at the maid again, for he thought 
it were a shame to send the point against so fair a damsel. Yet 
even so, the javelin fastened quivering in Brynhild’s shield; and 
with the mighty shock she tottered to and fro and fell upon the 
plain. Quick she upstarted, crying, ‘ I thank thee, Gunther, for 
that stroke.’ For in truth she deemed it was his work. 

Angrily she heaved up the great stone and brandished it about 
her head, then flung it twelve fathoms away, and leaping, sprang 
beyond the stone-cast. Gunther ran to where the stone lay, and 
seized it. Men thought that he flung it, not seeing Siegfried 
grip the rock in his hands and hurl it half as far again as 
Brynhild. Then Siegfried caught the king about the waist and 
bounded with him to where the stone pitched. All men saw the 
leap; but there was no one against the stone save Gunther only. 

Sullenly queen Brynhild called her warriors. ‘ Come hither, 
men and kinsmen: I am no more your mistress; bow low to 
Gunther, you are his liegemen now.’ Then made they all 
obeisance to King Gunther and owned him as their lord. But 
Siegfried hasted away to the ship to take off his cloud-cloak; and 
when he came back, finding Gunther and his companions in the 
palace, he said, ‘ Why tarrieth the king from the games ? Come 
let us to the ring and see the contest.’ 

Brynhild answered, ‘ Where hast thou been, good Siegfried, 
not to know that the games are done and King Gunther has 
overmastered me 1 ’ Then said Siegfried, ‘I was busy in the ship 
the while; but truly I am glad to know my master has taught 
so proud a maiden submission.’ 

Some days went by while Brynhild made ready for her journey 
to the Rhineland. She sent to gather all her friends and liege¬ 
men to Isenstein, to receive gifts of gold and rich raiment; and 
as Hagan beheld how great companies flocked early and late to 
the castle, his mind misgave him of some treachery, and he spake 
with Siegfj'ied thereupon. Siegfried said, ‘Fear not. I am going 
a journey alone ; ask not where or why, but tarry here for me.’ 

Then went Siegfried down to the sea-shore and put his cloud- 
cloak on, and entering a little boat which he found tied there, 
put out to sea. Men marked the boat as it bounded over the 
waves, but could perceive neither oarsman nor steersman, and 
they marvelled, thinking that it was driven by a storm. All 
night and day Siegfried rowed until he reached a coast where 
was a meadow and a castle on a hill. He tied the boat, went 
ftuaightway to the castle and beat upon the gate. A huge earth- 


The Nibelting Story, 285 

slialcmg giant, the porter at the gate, yawning as he woke, cried 
gruffly, ‘ Who knocks so loud 1 ’ 

Siegfried answered, ‘ A warrior who is loth to wait till lazy 
louts have done their snores. Open the gate.’ The giant seized 
a heavy iron bar, and taking his ponderous shield in hand, flung 
wide the doors. Then followed so fierce a fight that the sound of 
the blows reached the hall of the Nibelungers. Alberich the 
dwarf heard it in his hollow hill, and straightway came hasting to 
the place, but found Siegfried conqueror and the giant lying bound 
upon the earth. The dwarf had a golden scourge made of seven 
heavy knobs of gold, which swung from a handle by seven thongs. 
"With this he beat Siegfried’s shield to splinters; but still the 
knight of Netherland disdained to draw his sword upon his 
chamberlain. He flung his broken shield away, and taking the 
hoary dwarf by the beard shook him to and fro till he roared with 
pain. * Hold, master,’ cried Alberich, ‘ for pity’s sake* let go. I 
will do all your bidding; but—what is your name, kind sir]’ 
He answered, ‘ My name is Siegfried; you have heard it I think 
before to-day.’ The dwarf said, ‘ Well-a-way ! So Siegfried is 
it ] To think I should not know my master ! Let me go—what 
must I do ]’ 

‘ Go straight and summon a thousand Nibelungers; equip them 
well, and bring them with all speed to Issland to Queen Brynhild’s 
castle.’ Siegfried let him go, and the dwarf fared blithely on bis 
errand. 

Queen Brynhild looked out from her castle, and seeing many 
white-sailed ships coming to land, she, said to Gunther, ‘ What 
are these]’ Gunther answered, ‘ They are guests of mine who 
come to greet these guests of thine.’ And when Brynhild found 
Siegfried among them, she welcomed them all to land. 

Then said the queen, ‘ Will someone give away my gifts of gold 
and silver to the guests ] It is no unthankful office, since I have 
wealth enough in store.’ 

Dankwart said, ‘ Give me the keys, fair queen. Trust me I 
will so distribute it that all shall be content.’ 

But no sooner had Dankwart taken the keys than he scattered 
gold and silver right and left to all that came; the very beggars 
in the street he clad in courtly raiment, and to him that asked a 
mark he gave enough to make him rich for life. Never had queen 
so lavish a treasurer before. And when Brynhild spake to 
Gunther to stop this wasting of her wealth, Hagan said, ‘Never 
fear, great queen, the king of Ehineland hath treasure in- such 
plenty that we may well afford to squander thine.’ Nevertheless, 


286 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Brynhild was fain to save twenty chests of her vestments and 
jewels, and these she would not trust either with Dankwart or 
Hagan. Then with a hundred maidens in her train, a thousand 
of her chosen warriors, and the thousand Nibelunger knights, 
Brynhild and Gunther set out for Khineland. 

A royal greeting Queen Uta prepared for her son’s fair bride. 
With all her knights and damsels in her train she rode to the. 
beach to welcome her. And when Brynhild was come forth from 
the ship, Kriemhild came down from her palfrey and ran and took 
her hands and kissed her, saying, ‘ Welcome, dear sister Brynhild.’ 
Hard would it be to say w^hether of the two maidens was the more 
beautiful, she of Issland or she of Rhineland. 

Then King Gunther prepared a royal feast, and spread silken 
pavilions in the plain before the city, and held jousts and games. 
And at the end of the tournament came Siegfried to the king, and 
brought to his mind the promise he had made. Gunther said, 

‘ What I have vowed that will I now perform.’ Then sent he to 
summon Kriemhild to the hall. And the king spake to his kins¬ 
men and to them which sat at table with him, ‘ Think you that 
Siegfried is a worthy man to wed my sister % ’ They all answered, 

‘ He is worthy.’ So when Kriemhild was come he said to her, 

‘ Sister, I pray thee of thy kindness to set me free from an oath 
which I have made; for I have vowed thee in marriage to a 
knight.’ 

She answered, ‘ Dear brother, I will do thy will, and take for 
husband him thou givest me.’ 

Then Gunther brought Siegfried to her, saying, ‘ This is the 
knight whereof I spake. Wilt thou take him for thy husband % ’ 

Kriemhild blushed, looked gladly in Siegfried’s face, and laid 
her snow-white hands in his—he, naught ashamed, put his strong 
arms round her and kissed his bride before them all. 

Now at the feast, when Brynhild sat by Gunther, she espied 
how Kriemhild sat by Siegfried, and being very angry said to the 
king, ‘ I cannot rest to see your sister sitting content at a thrall’s 
side. Bid her come and sit by us—not mingle with thy men.’ 

He answered, ‘Peace. We will talk of this another time. 1 
have given her to wife to Siegfried for an oath’s sake. Ask not 
why ; what is done is done*’ 

‘ His wife % Thy sister given to thy man 1 Until I know why 
thou hast done this thing, thy queen I may be, but thy wife I will 
not be.’ 

Gunther said, ‘ Know then, Siegfried is not my man. He is a 
very great king, with broad lands and castles of his own. Let 
that suffice thee.’ 


The Nib thing Story, 287 

But Brynliild pondered this within her mind and could not rest 
content. If Siegfried were so great a king, why served he Gunther * 
Or if he were but Gunther’s man, wherefore should Gunther give 
him his sister 1 

Night came, and the royal chamberlains, with trains of youths 
and maidens, led brides and bridegrooms to the wedding chambers. 
But no sooner was Brynliild alone with Gunther, than she turned 
fiercely on him and refused to be his wife till he should tell what 
service Siegfried had done that he must needs give him Kriemhild, 
and what oath that was whereof he spake. Idle were Gunther’s 
loving words. He dared not tell her what she asked; she would 
not suffer his caresses, but in fury flung him half across the room, 
then kneeled upon his chest, and with the girdle from her waist 
bound her new bridegroom hand and foot, and hung him to a nail, 
and let him dangle there till daylight, whilst she lay down and 
slept alone upon the marriage-bed. At morning she untied him, 
lest the servants bringing the gay marriage-robes should see his 
shame, and both be sport for babbling tongues. All day King 
Gunther was a moody man amidst a merry-making court. At last 
he came to Siegfried, who for the very fulness of his joy cared not 
to join the noisy crowd but mused apart, and told what liad 
befallen him. ‘ Look at my wrists and ankles swollen with those 
cursed cords ; her fingers are like iron; her clutch is like some 
dragon’s. What can I do ? I love her, terrible as she is.’ Sieg¬ 
fried answered, ‘Leave all to me. I will tame this fury for thee. 
To-night, wrapped in my cloud-cloak, I will hie me to thy chamber. 
Watch thou, and trust thine honour in my hands.’ 

So when night came, Siegfried put on his cloud-cloak and went 
with Gunther into Brynhild’s chamber. He put out the tapers; 
then mimicking the voice of Gunther, he spake to Brynhild and 
lay down at her side. ‘ Hast thou forgotten yesternight ? ’ she 
said ; and took up Siegfried like a child in her strong arms, an 1 
hurled him with his head against an oaken bench. He started up 
and wrestled with the mighty maiden. They hurtled to and fro 
in savage fight, now here, now there, about the room, while 
Gunther had to dodge on tiptoe in the dark from place to place 
lest Brynhild should light on him and find that the man witli 
whom she struggled was not her mate. Brynhild gripped Sieg¬ 
fried round the arms, and by main force lifted him off his feet, 
and jammed him up against a press that stood by the bedside. 
Then, whilst with her shoulder she fixed him there, she clutched 
his tw'^' hands in one of hers so tight that the blood gushed from 
his finger tips, the while with her other hand she sought to loi)se 


288 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

her girdle wherewith to bind him. Siegfried put forrli hia 
strength, and after a great struggle freed his hands, and gat his 
feet again; then closing with the fierce woman he threw her 
headlong backwards on the floor. Heavily she fell, half-stunned, 
quite helpless, wholly conquered. She said, ‘ No more will I 
provoke thy strength. Henceforth, King Gunther, I will be thy 
docile wife.’ Sie^ried softly arose and left the chamber; but 
bore away two trophies with him—he had slipped Brynhild’s ring 
from off her finger, and drawn the loosened girdle from her waist. 
And these, whether in wilfulness or sport, he gave to his wife. 
Kriemhild took the ring and girdle, but for a long time wist not 
whence they came. 

On the morrow Gunther and his queen sat blithely at the 
wedding feast, as happy a pair as might be ; and from that 
morning Brynhild lost all her marvellous strength and became 
weak as any other woman. 

Soon after this Siegfried took his wife home to Netherland. 
And when he came to Xanten, Siegmund his father lifted the 
crown from off his head and made Siegfried king. So Siegfried 
remained there to rule that country, and held besides all the land 
of the Nibelungers in fee. As time went on Kriemhild bore him 
a son, whose name they called Gunther for his uncle’s sake, and 
about the same season Brynhild bare a son to King Gunther, and 
they called his name Siegfried. 


n. THE CROSSLET ON THE VESTURE. 

Now Brynhild continually pondered in her mind why Siegfried 
came not to do homage for his lands. And she often spake to her 
lord, saying, ‘.This Siegfried, since he is thy man, how comes it 
that he does thee no service, pays no tribute, yields no homage V 
After a while. King Gunther, being wearied at her asking, 
promised to bring Siegfried and his wife to Worms. And since 
he could not command them to obey, he sent messengers to seek 
their presence, for friendship’s sake, at a great festival which he 
would hold at midsummer. 

When the messengers told Siegfried their errand, he promised 
that he would come, and having loaded them with presents and 
given them gold treasure as much as their horses could carry, sent 
them back again to King Gunther. 



The Nibehmg Sto?y, 289 

At midsummer Siegfried came to Worms, bringing with him 
fair Kriemhild and Siegmund his father, and a great company of 
his warriors, but his child lie left at home in Netherland. Gunther 
and his queen received them as befitted royal folk, and day by day 
held tournaments in their honour. But still Queen Brynhild 
could not rest from her desire to know why Siegfried paid no 
homage, notwithstanding Siegfried had himself told her that he 
was Gunther’s man. And one evening as Brynhild viewed the 
jousts, Kriemhild, sitting beside her, said, ‘Look at my husband, 
how strong and brave he is ! Where is the man that can compare 
with him in aught % Am I not right to be proud that he is mine 
—the most peerless knight in all the world V 

Brynhild answered, ‘ Aye, thou mayest be proud of him when 
Gunther is not by. But howsoever strong is Siegfried so much 
the prouder I; for I have wedded his master. Kay, deny it not. 
I had it from his lips as well as Gunther’s; For when my lord 
Bubdued me in the fight Siegfried himself told me, “ Gunther is 
master, 1 am but his man.” Kay, blush not for Siegfried, he is a 
better thrall than most; a good vassal to his lord.’ 

‘ Master h Lord % Sie^ried hath none,’ cried Kriemhild angrily. 

‘ He is our thrall,’ answered Brynhild; ‘ and all that hold of 
him are our thralls likewise.’ 

Kriemhild answered, ‘ Indeed! And since thou rulest us all, 
how cometh it to pass that we pay thee no homage and always 
deny thee service ] Kay, I will endure thy taunts no longer. 
Hold thy peace.’ 

Then said Brynhild, ‘ It becometh not a thrall’s wife to bear 
herself too loftily. So since thou wilt be humbled, we will see to 
whether of us twain shall be paid the greater respect—to thee the 
vassal’s wife, or to me his lord’s.’ 

Kriemhild said, ‘ Be it so. I will prove this night that I dare 
enter the minster with all my train before Gunther’s queen.’ 

Then flashing with anger both women left the lists, and each 
went and put on her most costly raiment and richest jewels to 
outdo the other. Brynhild looked up the very finest Arabian 
stuffs from her chest wherewith to deck herself. Kriemhild 
clothed her maidens more sumptuously than any women yet were 
clad in Burgundy; but she herself put on apparel stiff with jewels, 
worth the robes of thirty queens, and all to anger Brynhild. 
Men thought it strange tp see the queens walking to the minster 
apart, their trains wide-sundered, when hitherto they had gone 
side by side. 

To tlie minster door came. Brynhild, panting with ang^r scarce 

T 


290 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

controlled, and cried, ‘Stay, vassaless; make way for the lady of 
the land!’ 

Kriemhild’s blood was np, and she answered, ‘Vassaless good 
sooth ! And how much loftier is a vassal’s wanton than his wifel 
When Gunther could not win nor tame thee, my husband Siegfried 
did the work. Thou dishonoured thing, abase thyself and let mo 
pass.’ Tears started out from Brynhild’s eyes for rage and shame. 
And whilst she wept, and cried ‘ It is false, vile woman ; Gunther 
shall know of this,’ Kriemhild spurned her away, and with her 
train passed through the minster door. 

All through the service Brynhild sat with a weight like lead 
upon her mind; she thought that chant and psalm would never 
come to an end. But when at last it was over, she hasted forth 
and stopped Kriemhild outside the church door, whilst knights 
and ladies gathered round to hear. 

She said, ‘ You shall go no further. Stop and do me right. 
You called me wanton. Prove it.’ 

Kriemhild answered, ‘ Better ask me to be silent. Bern ember 
Siegfried is but a lowly lover—a vassal. But if you will have 
your shame made plain before the crowd I care not. See this 
ring upon my hand. Siegfried brought it to me from your 
chamber.’ 

‘ It’s a foul lie,’ said Brynhild. ‘ Many a year I missed the 
ring, and now I know the thief’ 

Kriemhild said, ‘Thief] Why will you not hold your peace 
and hide your shame ? I am no thief Behold your girdle which 
I wear about my waist. That Siegfried brought me likewise.’ 

Brynhild looked and saw that it was her girdle. Well she 
knew it; made of Nineveh silk glittering with precious stones. 
Then breaking out in a passion of tears, she said, ‘ Go some one ; 
fetch King Gunther hither. He shall know what his sister says 
of me.’ 

When Gunther came and saw his queen weeping bitterly, he 
took her tenderly to him and asked what had befallen her. 

She answered, ‘ Thy sister would rob me of my good name— 
she says that Siegfried has boasted of my love. And see, she 
wears my girdle and my ring to put me to an open shame.’ King 
Gunther said, ‘ If Siegfried has so boasted he shall deny it, or one 
of us shall die.’ And he bade them send for him. Presently 
came Siegfried, knowing nothing of what had happened, and 
wondering to see the anger of the queens. Gunther told why 
Brynhild wept; then asked him, ‘Sir Siegfried, is it true that 
thou hast won Queen Brynhild’s love? And hast thou boasted so? 


291 


The Nibchtiig Story, 

Siegfried answered frankly, ‘ It is not true, nor have I boasted 
80 ; nor spake I at any time such words to my wife/ Thereto he 
uplifted his hand and sware before all the men of Burgundy. 
And he said, ‘ Sore it grieveth me that my wife should have set 
thine at naught. But we must teach our women to leave off idle 
talking and to rule their tongues. Keep thou thy wife in order ; 
I’ll do the same by mine.’ 

Then was King Gunther pacified, and said, ‘It is enough. I 
heartily believe thee free from blame in this matter.’ But Hagan 
and Ortwine of Metz were very angry and would never believe 
but Siegfried, in some boastful fit, had foully slandered their 
queen, and that what his wife spake she heard from him. Where¬ 
fore Hagan continually stirred up the king against Siegfried in 
secret, prompting him ever to spill his blood, and saying, ‘ If he 
is guiltless how came he with the ring and the girdle ? So long 
as Siegfried lives our queen’s good name will be bandied about 
by every prating tongue.’ For a long time Gunther heeded him 
not, or only answered, ‘ Siegfried w’as ever true to us in word and 
deed;’ but as Hagan and Ortwine harped all day upon the wrong 
done to the queen, showing besides how Gunther might become 
king both of the Netherland and the Nibelung men if Siegfried 
were destroyed, and as Brynhild would not let him rest at night 
for urging the same thing, he began to hearken. Yet said he, 
‘ Siegfried is so strong of hand that it would be vain for any of 
us to take this quarrel up.’ Hagan answered, ‘Fear not but I 
will compass his death either by strength or subtlety. Only give 
me leave.’ So he persuaded Gunther to get strange messengers 
to ride as though from Ludeger and Ludegast to defy the Bur¬ 
gundians to battle; and to see what would come of it. 

Accordingly one morning, as Hagan had arranged, there came 
two-and-thirty messengers to the king. And Siegfried, seeing 
them, said to Gunther, ‘ Who are these men ? And what meaneth 
this whispering in the court betwixt you and Hagan and Ortwine F 
The king said, ‘ Good cause have I for sorrow, since Ludeger and 
Ludegast threaten to come and ravage all my land again.’ ‘ If 
that is all,’ laughed Siegfried, ‘ be of good cheer. Stay you at 
home with your warriors at the hearth side. I and my knights 
will now go forth and bow these men beneath your yoke again ; 
and people shall say, “ King Gunther had in Siegfried a better 
friend for friendship’s sake than liege had ever vassal that did 
homage for land or fee.” ’ 

Siegfried made no delay but gat his arms and harness, and 
gathered his men together. Then went the wily Hagan to take 


292 Popular Ro 77 iances of the Middle Ages. 

leave of his cousin Krienihild. And Kriemhild said to lim, *13 
not mine a brave lord, that can give so strong a succour to his 
friends! I am glad this has befallen so, for now my husband 
will make amends for all my folly and my wrong to Brynhild. 
Perchance she will forgive me then,—when Siegfried for my sake 
.has slain her foes and comes home conqueror. It was my fault, 
not his. But that you know ; for Siegfried said so. You heard 
him before all the people. He could not lie—not even to shield 
me—and for his speaking truth and shaming me I love him better 
than if he had lied. I know not how I could have spoken thus, 
and made such mischief with my tongue. I would not, only 
Brynhild galled me so.’ 

Hagan answered, ‘ Aye, aye; we all know that full well. But, 
lady, tell me, is there any service I might do for Siegfried in the 
war ] For in truth I love no man better than I love him.’ 

She said, *, 0, I fear not that any man will slay my husband. I 
know his might and valour.’ 

‘ Aye, lady; so do both friends and foes. Yet he is but a mortal 
man; and since his li/e is very precious to us all it was my thought 
to watch by him through the tight, lest harm should befall him 
by any treachery or misadventure. We dare not lose him, lady.’ 

She answered, ‘It is kind of thee, good Hagan ; and since thou 
art my cousin I gladly trust him in thy keeping, and will tell thee 
a secret known to him and me alone. When Siegfried slew the 
dragon, you know how he bathed him in the hot blood and made his 
flesh sword-proof. Dear friend, no other creature knows what I 
am going to tell: I pray thee safely treasure it.—But as he bathed, 
there fell a leaf from off a linden tree and lay betwixt his shoulders, 
and that tiny place alone the blood washed not. There only steel 
may pierce my darling; often through the battle-time I tremble 
lest in the cloud of darts some one may find its way there and I 
lose the mate so dear to me. There guard him with thy shield, 
dear friend, and God and I will bless thee.’ 

Hagan said, ‘ I pray thee sew me a token in his outer garment, 
that 1 may surely know where most to guard him.’ She told 
him, ‘ I will sew a little crosslet with fine silk upon his vesture. 
So shalt thou know. I charge thee keep him safe. Farewell.’ 

Afterward Hagan set oft’ with Siegfried and the host. And as 
soon as they had journeyed a little way and Hagan had carefully 
espied the crosslet, he sent forward men to go away to a distance 
and return ii guise of messengers from Ludeger and Ludegast to 
offer submission and beg for peace. 

Fretting to be baulked of his war-play. Sir Siegfried turned his 


293 


The Nibelmig Story. 

horse and brought the host back again. In the palace he foimd 
King Gunther who, being counselled by Hagan, said they vvoul I 
all go a-hunting in Odenwald. And Siegfried, grown restless at 
not having men to hunt, was glad to go and hunt the wild boar. 
But Gunther’s brethren, Gernot and Giselher, knew the plot 
against Siegfried’s life and either feared or were ashamed to go to 
the hunt; yet held they their peace and let him ride forth to his 
death unwarned. 

But first Sir Siegfried went to bid farewell to Kriemhild. He 
took her sweet face betwixt his hands and lifted up her rosy 
mouth to his to kiss, saying, ‘ God bring me safe back to see these 
dear bright eyes again.’ But Kriemhild’s eyes grew dim because 
of an ill foreboding which scarce took shape within her mind. 
She thought on the secret .she had told Hagan, yet dared not own 
it to her lord; so she only hid her head in his breast and sobbed. 
She said, ‘ Dear lord, go not a-hunting. I dreamed last night I 
saw thee chased by two wild swine across the heath, and the 
flowers in the track turned bloody red. My heart is chilled witli 
fear of losing thee. O stay ! ’ He ans-^yered, ‘ Foolish child, dry 
up thy tears. What cause have I for fear? Not a soul in Khiiie- 
land beareth me ill-will. I go with friends, not against enemies ; 
for pastime not for war. Be comforted ; be blithe and merry 
with thy kinsmen, and, ere thou knowest, Siegfried will be at thy 
side again.’ 

She clung to him and twined her arms about his neck. ‘Nay; 
go not, I pray thee. Leave me not. Last night I dreamed that 
mountains fell above my head and shut me out from thee for ever. 
My heart will break if thou dost go.’ 

Tenderly he unclasped the winding arms; thrice kissed her ; 
and passed out. It seemed to Kriemhild that the sunshine went 
out too, for the gloom that fell on her. 

No hunter surpassed Siegfried that day. The first beast that 
liis lime-hound started was a half-bred boar; him Siegfried struck 
dead at a stroke. Then found he a lion in a thicket and drew his 
bow and shot him through. He brought down a buffalo, an elk, 
four strong wild oxen, and many a swift hart and hind. A great 
wild boar ran furious at him, but Siegfried, scorning to harry the 
beast with spears, fought him with his sword Balmung instead, 
and slew him. He chased a bear, bound him with cords and 
brought him alive, tied at his saddle-bow, to where the cooks and 
scullions were making ready the hunters’ meal at a great fire in 
the wood. A savoury smell of roast and boiled and dainty stews 
rose from the pots and pans about the pine-fire 


294 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Tlit;n sat they all down riji;ht merrily to the feast. But Sieg¬ 
fried looked about and began to murmur, saying, ‘ There is truly 
no lack of meats of every kind, but where, good comrades, is the 
wine B 

Then said false Gunther, ‘Hagan is to blame who makes us die 
of thirst.’ 

And Hagan said, ‘ I am indeed to blame. I thought the hunt¬ 
ing of to-day was to be held in the woodpecker’s haunt; thither 
by mishap I sent the wine. But yonder among the trees runnetli 
a little brook; the water is bright and cold ; there let him drink 
that is athirst.’ 

Now as Hagan had beforetime ordered it, only he and King 
Gunther rose up to go with Siegfried to the brook. And they 
made a race as though in sport, which should first reach the 
linden-tree that grew by the stream-side. But Siegfried far out¬ 
stripped them both, and gained the tree, and leaned his spear and 
sword and buckler there%; yet for all he was so parched, of his 
courtesy he would not quench his thirst till the king should first 
have drunk. And when the two came up, first Gunther stooped 
over the stream and took his draught, then rose and stepped aside. 
Afterward kneeled Siegfried down to drink. And while he drank, 
Hagan came softly and took the sword and bow from against the 
tree and hid them; then spied he for the sign on Siegfried’s silken 
coat, and having found it, seized the spear and drave it with a 
trembling, frightened hand, right through the crosslet betwixt 
Siegfried’s shoulders. The life-blood spouted on his murderous 
fingers; he, white with terror, left the spear sticking there and 
fled. 

Siegfried felt that he was death-stricken. He gat upon his 
feet; he looked round for his weapons, but neither bow or sword 
was there. Only his shield remained. He caught it in his hand 
and ran, while every bound jagged the great boar-spear in his 
aching back. He ran at Hagan, and step by step gained on the 
man, till, having well-nigh overtaken him he stopped and hurled 
his great shield at the murderer. It smote the coward’s buckler, 
shivered it in pieces and felled him to the ground, while all the 
wood resounded with the blow. Then Siegfried grieved because 
he had no sword wherewith to slay his enemy. But immediately 
he sickened with his wound ; death-pallor came into his face ; his 
strength was loosed; his sinews slackened ; his eyes grew dim as 
though a cloud veiled them. Upon his face he fell along the 
grass, and stained the flowers with his blood. 

Warriors from all sides came running up. They gathered 


295 


The Nibelung Story. 

about and lifted up his head. Siegfried, writhing in moital 
anguish, upbraided his murderers with his dying breath. ‘ Foully 
have you done, 0 cowards, thus to repay the service of a faith¬ 
ful friend ! Unwisely have you done, 0 fools ; and you will rue 
it sore ! Cursed be ye and all that henceforth from your loins 
shall spring. Alas, that I loved Gunther, saved his life, his 
honour, and his land, for this reward 1 ’ 

The false king bowed his head and wept for shame. 

‘Nay, weep not,’ Siegfried moaned; ‘to plot a murder a d 
then weep for it only maketh a man the more despised. But if 
thy black heart hath any pity left, I pray thee befriend my dear 
love and lady. She is thy sister; guard her, I pray, as king and 
brother should. And that she may find favour in thy sight, 
remember all I did for thee—forget how thou rewardedst it.’ 

He spake no more. Awhile he lay seeming to fight with 
Death as with some ancient foe; then hid his face in the grass; 
a shuddering went through his limbs; then came a calm, and 
the faithful knight lay dead beneath the trees. 

When Gunther’s chiefs knew certainly that Siegfried was dead, 
they took him up and laid him on a golden buckler, and bare 
him forth from the wood. And every man that went hunting 
in Odenwald that day sware to keep Hagan’s secret, and to abide 
by one tale—to wit, that Siegfried must needs go hunting alone, 
and they had come upon his body slain by robbers in the 
wood. 

In the dark night Hagan and his men carried Siegfried’s body 
and laid it down athwart the threshold of Kriemhild’s door, and 
departed. 

The matin bell, ringing before the dawn, waked Kriemhild 
and her maids, and straightway they arose to go to matins at the 
minster as they were wont. Her chamberlain stumbled on the 
body in the dusk, and not knowing who it was, ran in to tell his 
lady how a dead knight lay before her door. 

Quick answered she, ‘ ’Tis he, my love, my Siegfried lies before 
my door! ’ She shrieked and fell, blood oozing from her pallid 
lips. Morning had come when she wakened from her swoon : 
her women hushed their whispers and their tears. She looked 
at their white faces and knew her fears were true. They, thank¬ 
ful not to have to tell her, dumbly led her through the door. 
They watched her lift the blood-bedabbled corpse within her 
lily arms; saw her, ere she stayed to kiss the leaden lips, go 
searching all about to find the wound, mute as a tigress seeking 
the hunter’s death-mark on the body of her young. Then sh^ 


296 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

lulled it in her arms and rained down tears upon the quiet face. 
She saw the crosslet pierced, knew well the work was Hagan’s, 
the bidding Brynhild’s, and the folly hers. 

The hoary Siegmund came, and, lifting up his voice, bewailed 
his only son, snatched from him in his age. The Nibelung men, 
and they of the Netherland, came crowding up, and fiercely 
talked in groups, till group by group they made one throng and 
cried out with one voice and mind, ‘ To the palace ! Away with 
Gunther and his men! We will root them from the earth 1^ 
But Kriemhild spread forth her hands and besought them, saying, 
‘Waste not your lives for naught. They have thirty men for 
every one of you. God will avenge us \ only wait. Let me find 
the man that slew my darling. If God forbear to smite him, I 
will not. But 0 not now, for I must weep. Be patient; weep 
with me awhile, good friends, and help me coffin my dear lord.’ 

All through the city knights and dames lamented the sad fate 
of Siegfried, wondering if he died by treachery or mishap. 
They gossipped on, and marvelled much; had many tales to tell 
and hear, but knew not aught. The men that hunted in 
Odenwald kept the secret as they sware to do. 

They laid the dead man on a bier and bare him to the minster. 
They set the bier before the altar and sang a requiem. And 
when the mass was done King Gunther said, ‘ Alas, my sister, 
for the sorry mischance which hath bereaved thee.’ 

Kriemhild answered, ‘ If mischance it be, and thou and thy 
men are guiltless, fear not; but go, each of you—pass one by 
one before the bier ; so shall the guilt of him who did this thing 
be plainly seen by all the people.’ 

Truly it is a great marvel, appointed of old to mark the 
shedder of blood, that whensoever the murderer approacheth 
a corpse the wounds break out a-bleeding. So it befell that 
when Hagan drew nigh to Siegfried’s dead body the blood burst 
from the wound afresh, and ran down off the bier about the 
altar stone. And seeing the sign, the people whispered and 
made room for Hagan till he stood apart. Then said Gunther, 
* Let fools put faith in tokens and in signs. I give you all to 
know that Siegfried was slain by robbers. He died not by 
Hagan’s hand.’ 

Kriemhild answered, ‘Verily he died by robbers—robbers 
which fawned and licked his bounteous hand, then basely stole 
away the life he spent on them. God and good men avenge me 
on such shameful robbers as Hagan and Gunther who spilled my 
darling’s blood I ’ 


The Nibehi 7 ig Sioiy, 297 

Many a mass was sung. The minster bells tolled all the day. 
They brought a heavy coffin braced with iron bands and decked 
about with gold and silver plates; therein they laid Sir Siegfried. 
Little children came from every city street bringing offerings for 
the dccid. But Kriemhild in her sorrow could not bear to give 
up his dear body to the ground ; and first she begged three 
days wherein to sit and weep in solitude with the d-fcad; and 
when at last they bore him to the grave, she came and fell upon 
her knees before her brethren and them which stood by, beseech¬ 
ing them so pitifully to break the coffin open and let her see 
her lord once more, that they could not choose but grant her 
prayer. 

When the days of mourning were accomplished, and thirty 
thousand marks had been divided amongst the poor for the good 
of Siegfried’s soul, Siegraund spake to his daughter-in-law to go 
back with him to Netherland, and she being willing, they all 
made ready to depart. But Kriemhild’s mother, Uta, prayed 
her to remain; and her brother Giselher entreated her not to 
leave her own kith and kin to go home and live amongst 
strangers, for that he would certainly watch over and comfort 
her, and make amends for her affliction. Gernot also begged her 
to stay, saying, ‘Believe me, I had neither part nor lot in 
Siegfried’s death; neither knew I before that any bare him 
malice.’ Kriemhild yielded to the pleadings of her brothers and 
remained. Siegmund tried hard to turn her mind by speaking 
of her child at home, but to no purpose, since Siegfried’s body 
lay in Burgundy. Then finding he could not prevail on her, 
Siegmund, very loth, bade Kriemhild farewell, and gathering 
together his knights, departed out of lihineland. 

For three years and more Kriemhild went away from the 
palace, and dwelt apart with her maids in a house hard by the 
minster gate. Each morning and evening she betook herself to 
cliurch, and was fain to linger there, or weep on Siegfried’s tomb. 
Her sorrow fastened on her mind. Peace never came from prayer 
or chant or psalm; only a sorrow-weariness and listlessness of 
heart. The people, seeing her sweet face, white and grief-worn, 
iutied her, and those about were very tender for their pity’s sake. 
Only Queen Brynhild vcared nothing for Kriemhild’s tears; wept 
never with her, comforted her not; but sat on high upon her 
throne and scoffed at her. All those three years and a half 
Kriemhild would never so much as set eyes on Gunther or on 
Hagan. 

At last Hagan spake to King Gunther, ‘ Except you make the 


298 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

peace with vour sister Kriemhild, where is the profit of what wi 
have done]" Without it we shall never get the Nibelung treasure.’ 
Gunther answered, ‘ It is idle talking. She will not see or speak 
to me. And if I tried to break in on her sorrow, she would but 
call me robber to my face again, and make as much ado at being 
ravished of her grief as when we robbed her of her love. I dare 
not go. If you are bolder, go yourself.’ But having taken 
counsel together, they sent Gernot and Giselher; and these 
coming to Kriemhild said, ‘Dear sister, life is too short to 
grieve so long; and sorrow for the dead availeth naught except 
it chasten us to tenderness. King Gunther longs to give you 
proof that he slew not Siegfried. Be reconciled to him.’ She 
answered, ‘ Verily Gunther slew him not. Nay, brothers, it was 
I. I am to blame. I who betrayed him—not the poor cowards 
which thrust the spear into his back, ran from him when he was 
dying, shrank from him when he was dead. Hagan, not Gunther, 
struck the blow, but only since Gunther was the greater coward. 
If I should pardon Gunther it would be because my heart de¬ 
spised him yet more than Hagan, and most because I blame my 
folly worst of all.’ 

They pleaded long, until from weariness she said, ‘ Tell Gunther 
my tongue forgives him, but I never can forget.’ Then brought 
they her to Gunther, and brother and sister were reconciled. 
Moreover Kriemhild greeted all the knights, save Hagan only 
which struck the blow; him she would not see, and sooth to say 
he slank away, knowing the blood-guiltiness that was upon his 
head. 

And after this Kriemhild hindered them not from sending to 
the land of the Nibelungs for the treasure which Siegfried gave 
her for a morning-gift after her wedding. Eight thousand warriors 
went with Kriemhild and Giselher and Gernot to the mountain 
where Alberich the dwarf lurked always to mind the gold. 

And Alberich said, ‘ Siegfried took the cloud-cloak from us, and 
the treasure was his to give to whomsoever he willed. I and the 
Nibelung men are his liege servants.’ With that he took the 
keys of the treasure-house and delivered them up to Kriemhild. 

Then they began to get the treasure out. It was so great that 
it took twelve huge waggons day and night four days in going to 
and fro betwixt the cavern and the beach to lade the ships there¬ 
with. It was so great that its price could not be reckoned. It 
was a heap of gold and chosen gems—a hoard so rich and big 
that if one had the mind to buy up the whole world, its price 
would be a mere handful which none would miss from out the 


The Nibelung Stoiy. 299 

heap ; and hidden amongst it lay the golden wishing-rod, which 
whoso could find should rule the earth and all therein. 

They brought this mighty treasure away to Worms, and there 
crammed every tower and chamber in the castle with jewels and 
red gold, piled up like corn upon a granary floor. Kriemhild 
recked little of it \ how gladly would she have given it all to win 
her lord to life again ! With open hand she dealt the treasure 
out to all w^hich came, to rich and poor alike; until the world 
rang with the bounty of the widowed queen, and foreign knights 
from all lands flocked to Worms to share the gold which she 
showered forth as it had been dross. 

But Hagan was afraid, and put Gunther on his guard. ‘ This 
will not do : a few more months and Kriemhild will have bought 
up all the warriors in the world and won them to her service. 
She must be stayed.’ 

Gunther answered, I cannot hinder her : the hoard is hers; 
scarce have I regained her favour as it is. I will not give her 
more offence, neither care I how she scatters her treasure.’ 

Hagan said, ‘ This is folly ; if you care not for yourself, have 
some regard for Burgundy. If you restrain her not, I must: so 
lay the blame on me ; she cannot hate me worse.’ 

Then Gunther went upon a journey, and while he was gone 
Hagan prevailed over Kriemhild’s chamberlains which kept her 
treasure, and got the keys. When Kriemhild made complaint to 
her brothers Gernot and Giselher, they feigned to be very angry, 
and said that if Hagan had not been their kinsman it should 
certainly have cost him his life ; and as she continually upbraided 
them, Gernot said to Hagan, ‘ Better this treasure were flung into 
the river than cause such a-do; for if it is spent, it will harm us, 
and if it is locked, there is no peace within the palace.’ After 
that both the brothers took leave of their sister, saying they also 
must needs go on a journey; and so left her alone with Hagan. 
He got the treasure out of the castle and bore it away, and cast it 
into the Bhine at Lochheim at a place he knew of, whence he 
thought to recover it at a convenient season. 

When the three brothers came back, they all said that tliey 
were very angry with Hagan, and they banished him from the 
palace for a time, and so made peace with Kriemhild. But she 
being very unhappy, after a while went away from her brothers 
to dwell with her mother Uta in her palace at Lorsch, hard by 
the abbey. Thither also she caused Siegfried’s bones to be 
brought, and had them buried beside Lorsch minster, where they 
lie to this day. 


300 Popidai' Romances of the Ahcidle Ages, 


III. THE VENGEANCE OF KRIEMHILD. 

It befell after Kriemliilcl bad been thirteen years a widow, that 
Helcke, wife of Etzel king of the Huns, died ; and Etzel sent 
messengers with rich presents to ask Kriemhild in marriage. 
Chief of the messengers was the trusty margrave, Rudeger of 
Bechlaren. When Gunther knew their errand he was well 
inclined towards them ; neither was he minded to heed the 
warning of Hagan, who bade him look well to it, for that Etzel 
was a powerful king, and Kriemhild as his queen might work 
them much mischief, (xunther said, ‘ The mightier the king the 
greater honour. The Huns live far aw'ay ; I fear them not.’ 
Giselher also rebuked Hagan, saying, ‘You have cost my sister 
many a tear. Already have you robbed her of her mate and 
treasure ; why hinder her from finding new V Gernot said like¬ 
wise, ‘ Fear nothing we shall never go on Etzel’s land; there 
will be peace in your time and in mine.’ Hagan answered, ‘ Do 
as you will. I know that Kriemhild hateth you all, and chiefly 
me. Here in Burgundy she cannot work us harm, but whoso 
setteth her on high is a fool; he putteth a scourge into her hand 
and bareth his back to the smiter.’ ‘ Peace, Hagan, she is our 
sister; we will make amends, though late, for thwarting all her 
life.’ So spake Giselher. Hagan frowned, and as he turned away 
laughed scornfully and muttered, ‘ Fools !’ 

Margrave Rudeger came praying Kriemhild to bestow her love 
upon his master Etzel. Courteously she listened while he told of 
Etzel’s might find royal state, of his riches, and how he ruled 
twelve kingdoms and a score and more of princedoms. She 
answered wearily, ‘ I have lost already more than woman ever 
won before. Of what avail your little heaps of gold to me that 
owned the Nibelung hoard] A crown, a kingdom, tempts me 
not. No king was ever yet so strong as Siegfried. I have been 
Siegfried’s wife—be that your answer. All other kings are less 
than he.’ 

Rudeger said, ‘ Fair queen, the Huns are many ; they are firm 
fast friends to all within their borders; strong to shelter, powerful 
to avenge a wrong.’ 

Then Kriemhild wakened from her listlessness. As one that 
talketh with herself she said, ‘ I have no friends; alone I muse 
and weep, or sing at mass within the minster the while I let them 
filch my power away. Lo, what a feeble thing am I become ! 


The Nibehing Story, 301 

Hearken, Sir Rudeger; if I could count on friends—strong helpful 
friends—perchance I might be tempted to be queen again.’ 

He answered, ‘ Lady, count on me, upon my kinsmen and my 
vassals. We will be foremost in avenging you on any man who 
wrongs our master’s queen.’ 

‘ But Etzel,’ she said, ‘ is he not a heathen man 1 ’ 

‘ Nay, lady, a good man as kings go ; an upright man. He was 
converted once ; but finding Christians much like heathen folk, 
he went back to his old faith. His people love him as a just and 
kindly man. As many Christian knights as heathen sit ar( und 
his board. He heedeth rites but little, so he can live an honest 
life, and doubtless would be christened if you willed.’ 

Now both Kriemhild’s mother and brethren urged her to the 
match, but each for a different reason. Queen Uta, since a great 
alliance was for the honour of their line; King Gunther, because 
the sight of her brought always to his mind his treachery; Gernot, 
because he wearied of her complaints; but Giselher, since he 
loved his sister well and sought her good. 

So Kriemhild was easily persuaded to follow the bent of her 
own mind. A great company of her kinsfolk and the chiefs of 
Burgundy accompanied her as far as the Danube. Tliere she 
took leave of her brothers with kisses and fair words, insomuch 
that they went away light-hearted, thinking that she had clean 
forgiven and forgotten all. Then with Eckewart, her faithful 
chamberlain, and her maidens, she followed margrave Rudeger. 
Of all the Nibclung riches she brought away but twelve chests of 
gold ; yet when she lamented the smallness of her dowry, Rudeger 
said, ‘ If my lady had all dwarf Alberich’s treasure back again, I 
would have left it all behind: it would not make her one whit 
dearer in my master’s eyes.’ 

Forth rode King Etzel out of Hungary to meet his bride. 
With him were knights of well-nigh every land and tongue; 
Greek, Russian, Pole, Wallachian, Thuringian, Dane. At Tulna 
they met the queen, and she, being lifted from her palfrey, laid 
aside her veil and kissed the twelve noblest men, as Rudeger had 
taught her that the custom of the Huns was. Then Kriemhild 
greeted the king, who was greatly enamoured of her beauty and 
her royalness. They journeyed to Vienna, and there for seven 
teen days they kept the marriage-feast and made a tournament. 
The city could not hold the knights that flocked thither from 
every quarter of the earth ; they encamped for miles about the 
country, so that the people said, ‘ Queen Kriemhild did not 
scatter the Nibelung gold for naught.’ 


302 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

After this the king and queen went home to Haimbnrg, the 
royal city of Hungary. In due time Kriemhild bare her lord 
a son; and she called his name Ortlieb, and had him baptised in 
Christian manner, for there was nothing that Etzel could with¬ 
hold from her, since she was so dear to him. For long the people 
loved their queen, and Eckewart her chamberlain, by fair speeches 
and presents, made hosts of friends for her. 

But Kriemhild continually brooded over her^ wrongs ; and so 
one day she said to King Etzel, ‘ I pray thee send and bid my 
kinsfolk to a feast. I would not have this people think that I am 
an outcast without friends.’ And the king appointed two noble 
minstrels, Werbel and Schwemmelein, to go upon the errand. 

And being come to Burgundy, the messengers spake to King 
Gunther as Kriemhild had bade them. ‘ Much it grieveth our 
queen to be forsaken of her kindred all these years. It shameth 
her in the people’s eyes, who, thinking that she hath no friends, 
esteem her less. Wherefore she doth intreat of her good brothers 
to come at midsummer to a feast in Hungary; and since the noble 
knight Sir Hagan knoweth well the road, she prayeth him to 
come also. We likewise bear our lady’s service and good-will to 
the lady Uta and Queen Brynhild.’ Then Gunther took counsel 
with his brothers and Hagan. 

Hagan said, ‘ Let fools fall into an open trap. Eemember all 
that we have done. Distrust these smooth-tongued messengers. 
You dare not go.’ 

Gunther answered, ‘ Eight well know I by Kriemhild’s kiss at 
parting that she hath forgiven us all, save you perchance.’ 

Moreover Gisheler said, ‘ Shall we, forsooth, be forced to shun 
our sister, all because Hagan’s guilty heart maketh a cow^ard of 
him ! He says we dare not go. He means, he durst not go. Let 
Hagan stay at home and save his skin, but we will go up to the 
fi^ast.’ 

Then answered Hagan, ‘Despise my warning if you will, but 
wrong me not. I am no coward. I say that Kriemhild is our 
sharpest foe. And therefore I certainly wdll go with you ; for it 
is not meet that a knight should leave his lords to face their 
enemies alone.* 

King Gunther equipped ten thousand and threescore men to 
go with him, that the Huns might see the mightiness of the kins¬ 
men of their queen. But there was many an ill-foreboding at 
their departure. Eumold, to whom Gunther committed the 
cliarge of the kingdom till his return, said, ‘Alas, master that 
you ride forth to this feast.’ And the old Queen Uta dreamed 
that every bird tliroughout the land fell dead. 


303 


The Nibehing Story, 

Now after twelve days’ journey, Hagan brought them out upon 
a place against the Danube side where the swift river was swollen 
so deep and broad that they could in nowise wade across, neither 
was there any boat to ferry them over. And as Hagan went 
along the river bank by himself to look for a place where it might 
be forded, he came upon two swan-maidens who had doffed their 
swan-dresses to bathe. Hagan stole their dresses and made off; 
but one of the maidens called after him, ‘ Give us back our swan- 
raiment and we will tell what shall befall tliee, and of the very 
great renown and profit that shall come to thee and to the host 
which journeys into Hungary.* So, being pleased with their 
speech, he gave back their dresses. Then the other laughed and 
said, ‘ My sister did but lie to thee to get our raiment back, 
blow hear truth, and heed it if thou wilt. Hagan, son of Aldrian, 
thou shalt die in Etzel’s land, and every man of the host shall 
jierish there save the king’s chaplain; he only shall go back to 
Khineland!’ 

Hagan answered, * In vain you lie and cheat, for I will prove 
you false this very day.’ So he left them, and presently espying 
a ferryman, beckoned him to come and put him across the river. 
When the ferryman came to land and saw a stranger, he would 
not take him into the boat; but Hagan drew his sword and slew 
the boatman and carried off the ferry-boat. Then Hagan ferried 
over all the host in companies. And when only the king’s chap¬ 
lain was left on the other bank, he put the boat across again in 
the dusk of the evening to fetch him; and as soon as he had 
rowed into the midst of the river, Hagan took the chaplain by 
the waist and flung him in the water, saying, ‘ There, you lying 
women ; he shall never more see Rhineland !’ The chaplain was 
a strong swimmer and struck out lustily for shore; but Hagan 
followed in the boat and beat his head down with the oar; yet 
h)r all this he could not drown him. The chaplain dived ; God 
brought him safely to the further side ; there being landed he 
hied him back to Rhineland with all speed. 

Seeing the chaplain was escaped, Hagan began to despond, and 
having rowed ashore he set about breaking the boat in pieces; 
for he thought, if we are to return no more of what avail Avill it 
be to usi But when Dankwart asked him what he did, he 
answered, ‘Whatever ill betide us on this evil journey, no coward 
shall slink home again.’ With that he cast the pieces in the 
river. 

Now as they journeyed through Bavaria, Gelfrat the stout 
maigiave came out with seven hundred knights and fell upon 


304 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Hagan and Dank wart as they marched apart from the host with 
only a little band of men—for he sought to take vengeance for 
his ferryman. Howbeit Dankwart overcame Gelfrat and slew 
him, and his knights, being worsted in the battle, fled. 

On the borders of Hungary they came upon Sir Eckewart, 
Kriemhild’s liegeman, who lay sleeping by the wayside. Hagan 
sprang on him and took his sword away, not knowing who he 
was ; but when Sir Eckewart awaked and Hagan knew him, he 
gave back his sword and offered him, beside, many rings of gold 
to be his friend. Eckewart said, ‘ I will not have your gifts. 
The blood of Siegfried is upon your hands. Take heed, for 
Siegfried’s slayer will find no friends amongst the Huns.’ 
Hagan answered, ‘ If we lack friends we yet can guard ourselves 
from enemies; but what we most lack now is shelter, and a 
lodging for the night; we would not sleep upon the ground in 
this bleak land as thou, it seems, art wont to do.’ 

Now Sir Rudeger dwelt in a fair house at Bechlaren without 
the borders of Hungary. Thither Sir Eckewart led them all, and 
Rudeger and his wife Gotlind gave hearty welcome to the lords 
of Burgundy, and lodged and feasted them and all their men 
sumptuously for many days. And when they had rested and 
must needs go forward, Sir Rudeger gave gifts to everyone of that 
which each most set his mind upon. He withheld not his fair 
young daughter from Giselher, but gave her to him to be his 
bride, and they were betrothed after the manner of the time. 
They stood within a ring of youths and maidens, in whose sight 
they pledged their troth and kissed each other. To Gernot he 
gave a sword; to Gunther a mail-coat of proof. But Hagan 
asked a gift that brought tears to fair Gotlind’s eyes. He would 
take nothing but a shield that was laid by, kept always covered 
with a broidered veil of samite; it was decked with stones most 
precious, worth a thousand marks and more; yet not for that did 
Gotelind treasure it—her only son had borne it in the battle 
where he fell; on it they brought his body home. But Hagan 
asked and had it. He knew it was a precious thing, but, per* 
adventure, knew not all it cost to give. Yet would not Rudeger 
keep back anything that was in his house from his guests. 

Then Rudeger brought the lords of Burgundy to Etzel’s palace, 
and Queen Kriemhild came down to meet them at the castle gate. 
Gunther, and Gernot, and Hagan she passed by, but took her 
brother Giselher by the hand and kissed him.' 

Then spake Hagan, ‘ Is this a seemly welcome, passing kings 
and champions by to greet the youngest and least famous V 


The Nibehcng Story, 305 

Kriemhild said, ‘ Tell me; what have you brought me for a 
present out of Rhineland, to make you welcome in my sight V 

He answered, ‘ Lady we have no presents in our land befitting 
the regard of such a mighty queen.’ 

Then said Kriemhild, ‘ Have you forgot so soon the Nibelung 
treasure 1 When a thief would make amends, at least he giveth 
back the thing he stole. Have you no present out of that great 
hoard to bring to me from whom you robbed it alH’ 

Wrathfully he answered, ‘ The devil a present I bring. The 
hoard lies at the bottom of the Rhine. It is enough for him that 
visits foes to bring his arms and armour.’ 

Then Kriemhild commanded .them to lay their weapons down 
before they passed into the hall. And Avhen they would not, the 
queen cried fiercely, ‘Some one has warned these nien. My 
brothers even doubt me. If I could find who put them on their 
guard he certainly should die.’ 

Then outspake bold Sir Dietrich, one of the trustiest knights 
about her court: ‘ Many have warned them, lady; I for one. 
God grant there be no need of warning, for treachery to a guest 
were a foul sin. But since thou dost welcome them thus, 1 bid 
them still take heed, and keep their weapons by them. Now 
punish me as thou hast said.’ 

But Kriemhild blushed red with shame: she feared Sir Dietrich: 
and so the knights passed armed into the hall. And Gunther and 
Dietrich made a league of friendship between them. 

King Etzel from his throne espied the big broad-chested Hagan, 
his black hair dashed with grey, and asked Kriemhild concerning 
him. 

She told him, ‘That is Hagan, son of Aldrian of Tronje,—a 
strong champion, but cruel of hand and coward of heart.’ 

‘Nay,’ the king said, ‘thou art wrong, fair Kriemhild. If he 
be Aldrian’s son, I cannot but befriend him for his father’s sake. 
Well knew I Aldrian ; I dubbed him knight, and he was ever a 
true comrade unto me. So he is Aldrian’s son !’ Then he bade 
Hagan come near, and began to speak with him about his father; 
and as they talked the old king’s heart waxed young again to 
hear of days gone by. 

The next day Hagan and Volker crossed the courtyard and 
went and sat alone upon a bench within a chamber hard by a 
hall of Kriemhild’s. 

About Kriemhild in her hall were threescore Hunnish knights. 
Straightway she brake out a-weeping; and when they asked what 
troubled her she said, ‘ I have no peace while Hagan lives. O 

V 


3 o6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

friends, these many years have I bewailed my helplessness because 
I could not smite the man that slew my lord. Yonder he is, 
within the chamber; only one man with him.’ They answered 
with one accord, ‘Speak but the word and Hagan dies.’ She 
said, ‘ Follow me to the chamber-door. Wait you without the 
door while I go in and talk with him. And when you hear from 
his own mouth what he hath done, tarry no longer but rush in 
and fall on him.’ 

Howbeit one listened at the queen’s door and ran and told 
Hagan what threatened him. And Hagan said to Volkcr, ‘ Friend, 
wilt thou stand by meF—‘Aye, to death,’ he answered. ‘Then 
we will try the mettle of these Hunnish men.’ 

Presently came Kriemhild to the door. Volker asked his com¬ 
rade, ‘Shall we rise and greet the QueenP—‘Nay,’ answered 
Hagan ; ‘ rise not from off the bench, move not a hair, lest those 
without should think that we flinch. I care not for her wrath. 
Sit still and speak no word.’ 

Kriemhild came in, her crown upon her head, and looked for 
them to rise. They stirred not, but gazed at her; she at them. 
Then Hagan took his eyes from off the queen, and having loosed 
the great sword from his side, he laid it across his knees, and 
turned it slowly about as though he needed to examine it. The 
handle of the sword was gold ; a precious jasper glittered in the 
pommel; the scabbard was trimmed with red. 

Kriemhild scarce could endure the torment of the sight. How 
well she knew that sword— her husband’s good sword Balmung— 
and in Hagan’s hands ! 

She drew herself up straight, her cheeks aflame, and anger 
flashing from her eyes; ‘How dare you, murderer, wear my 
Siegfried’s sword V 

He toyed with the blade as though he heard her not. 

‘ Quick, answer me. How dare you in your bloody hand bear 
what his honest fingers held V 

Hagan lifted his eyes again and looked at her. Cold and 
unmoved he said, ‘ Because I slew your husband, and being his 
slayer took the spoil. If those men of yours without think that 
they can take it from me, let them in.’ Again he fell to toying 
with the blade and mused aloud, ‘A pretty sword. How keen 
of edge! The blade as heavy as an axe. A trusty sword, fair 
queen.’ 

She cried aloud, ‘ You hear ? He owns the shedding of my 
husband’s blood ! Come in and rid me of this murderer !’ 

But the men tarried without, each looking that his fellow 


The Nibehmg Slory. 307 

should first gv3 in. They feared the two stern champions; they 
had heard of Ealmung, which Siegfried made renowned through¬ 
out all lands, and durst not enter. One by one they slank away 
and scattered themselves about the castle quickly lest Hagan 
should find out which they were that sought his life and should 
take vengeance on them. 

Then was Kriemhild sore vexed, and went away to her chamber 
to bewail herself. 

After this, Hagan had little fear by day, because Kriemhild 
■durst not do anything openly for fear of the king, and besides 
that, many of her best champions would not have suffered treason 
to be done against a guest. Yet, because of their pride and 
courage, there was not found one of all the men of Burgundy that 
would go and tell the king what Kriemhild plotted. IJeverthe- 
less, at night Hagan and Volker put their armour on and kept 
watch at the gateway of the house where Gunther and the Bur¬ 
gundians slept. One midnight there stole up a band of Hunnish 
men whom Kriemhild charged, ‘ Strike no man but Hagan only;' 
but seeing the man whom they wanted armed and watching in his 
mail-coat, they would not assail him, for they feared to wake the 
rest. When they went to church the men of Burgundy went with 
their armour on, their swords girt at their sides; they sat to¬ 
gether in a company, and all the while the mass was singing they 
scowled at the Huns not knowing which of them were foes, and 
the Huns scowled back on them. 

Then being baulked in every plan to put Hagan alone to death, 
the queen’s longing to be recompensed on him grew so fierce that 
she recked not though all should perish so he died. And when 
the tournament came on she pondered, ‘ If we could only tempt a 
Rhinelander to slay a knight of ours, no need then to bespeak our 
people’s hate for them : the tourney would end in battle and I 
should be avenged.’ 

Many a knight she sent into the tilt-yard to vex the Burgundians 
both with words and blows. Moodily Queen Kriemhild sat beside 
her lord and watched how Gunther’s folk bare down the Huns 
and cleared the lists without a quarrel or mishap. The tilt was 
over, so thought Gunther’s men, and they were masters of the 
lists, when lo there came riding forth a Hunnish knight in dainty 
dress to show his finery before the dames. ‘ See yonder ladies’ 
darling ! ’ said Volker to his fellows, ‘a tap of a spear would fling 
him. But he shall not come on our ground until the joust is over. 
1 will ride at him. If he choose to flee, why let him; if he stand, 
Heaven help his gilt and gew-gaws.’ So saying he pricked his 


3 o8 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

steed and set his lance in rest. The Hun fled not, but spurred to 
meet him. Volker’s spear passed through his body and bore him 
off the saddle, dead. Then all the Huns called out for arms, and 
setting themselves in array against the Rhinelanders, would have 
straightway given them battle, only that Etzel rode in front and 
snatched the sword from out the hand of the first man who drew 
his weapon, crying, ‘ Back, you brawlers! The man was slain by 
misadventure. I saw the blow. Volker’s horse stumbled.’ So 
he patched up a peace betwixt the jealous hosts, and led them to 
the banquet table. 

When they had feasted together. King Etzel bethought him 
how to bind the two peoples into friendship ; and he sent and 
fetched his little son Ortlieb, that Kriemhild bare him. Then he 
set the boy in the midst of Kriemhild’s kinsmen, saying, ‘ Behold 
my son who will sit upon my throne. 1 will put him in your 
hands, and you shall take him back with you to Rhineland and 
bring him up; for 1 wish nothing better than that he should grow 
bold and fearless like the men of Burgundy. When he is become 
a man and rules this land he will repay your care, and be your 
strong ally.’ But Hagan, grown surly in his cups, jeered at the 
boy and said, ‘Your weakly youngster has not got the making of 
a man in him. We none of us shall trouble Ortlieb's court, but 
we may see his grave.’ Grieved was the king to hear this bitter 
speech, and wrathful waxed the Huns. Yet Etzel kept them 
back and quieted the tumult because of his honour and his royal 
word. 

But Etzel’s peacemaking was vain; for Kriemhild would not 
rest till she had set the people by the ears. She bribed Sir 
Blodel with money, land, and castles to go at all hazards and stir 
up a deadly strife with any one of Gunther’s chiefs. 

Blodel gathered together a thousand Huns and led them to the 
hall where Dankwart and his comrades sat at meat. 'Hagan was 
not there ; and so he came to Dankwart, who asked what his 
errand was with such a company. He said, ‘A life for Kriemhild 
from her lord’s foul murderers,’ and smote him in the face. 
Dankwart upstarted from the table. ‘She shall have a life,’ he 
said ; then swung his heavy sword and struck the head off Blodel s 
body. Seeing their master dead, the Huns in fury ran on Gunthers 
men and put numbers of them to the sword. Many had no 
weapons, having laid them aside as they sat at meat; these tore 
i)[) seats and benches, snatched up the heavy settles in their hands, 
ami fought like madmen. The meats lay trampled under foot 
among the corpses; the floor ran blood mingled with spilt mead 


3^9 


The Nibehing Story, 

which splashed them as they fought. But the Huns were driven 
out and left five hundred of their dead within the hall. Dankwart 
and his men, all bloody, pursued them out of doors and struck 
them down as they fled. Before King Etzel knew, many thousand 
Huns had armed themselves to avenge their fellows. These came 
up and drave back Dankwart and his men into the house again 
and swarmed thick about it for a stone-cast every way. They 
fought till Dankwart only and twelve comrades were left alive: 
the hall was heaped up with nine thousand dead. Then Dank¬ 
wart was fain to beg a boon of his foemen. ‘ Give us air, he 
cried; ‘ there is no more room within for dead or living; we 
stifle with the blood and heat. Let us out; few though we be, 
we do not grudge to die ; but let us breathe the air again and die 
in fight like warriors.’ The Huns of their courtesy stood from 
the door and let them out. Then fought they fiercer than before, 
the twelve against an army, till Dankwart looked for his comrades 
and he alone was left. Then set he to work to cut a road through 
all that host. In both hands he gripped his heavy sword; to 
right and left he swung it swift as lightning; the Huns went 
down on either side like barley bowing to the sickle. So he made 
a way and came out safe and ran, the Huns all following, till he 
gained the palace. He bounded up the staircase, overturning the 
cup-bearers and men bearing dishes from King Etzel’s table, and 
came reeking with blood to where Hagan and Gunther and their 
comrades sat over the wine-cup. He told his tale in a breath: a 
score of Ehineland meii ran down with him to keep the door. 

The child Ortlieb was prattling at the table. Hagan said, ‘We 
will pledge ourselves once more together, Burgundian and Hun ; 
and I will pour you royal wine.’ He caught the child and smote it 
in the neck with his sword : the head rolled into Kriemhild’s lap. 
Then began a great and terrible slaughter. Hagan smote off the 
hand of Werbel the minstrel wherewith he played the viol, say¬ 
ing, ‘ Take that for bearing the message into Burgundy.’ Then 
Ehinelander and Hun fought for dear life, till corpses piled the 
floor. 

Sir Dietrich was there in the hall with many of his men, but 
held himself aloof. He would not fight against Gunther’s knights, 
because of the league which he had made with him, neither would 
he fight against King Etzel, being his liegeman. Kriemhild crept 
trembling to him, saying, ‘ Save me from Hagan, good Dietrich, 
for he thirsts to have my blood.’ He said, ‘ I will do all that a 
man may.’ 

Then Sir Dietrich leaped upon a table and lifting his voice 


31 o Popular Ro 7 nances of the Middle Ages. 

above all the din of swords, called on Gunther. Gunther came: 
‘ What would you ? Have we harmed a man of yours, good 
friend h Be sure it was mishap, and we will make amends. But 
hinder me not, for we are hard bestead.’ He answered, ‘ Nay, 
dear comrade. All my men are safe. But since we fight not, 
give me leave to pass out, me and mine. This bloody banquet 
surfeits us,’ Gunther said, ‘Go, take with you whom you will, 
except my mortal foeman.’ And they slacked the fight for a 
little, that Dietrich and his men might pass in safety. Then Sir 
Dietrich took the queen beneath his arm, and sheltered King 
Etzel on his other side; five hundred of his champions closed 
about him. Unmolested they passed down the stairs and out 
through the door. 

The noise of battle in the palace was heard all day; but 
towards nightfall it slacked, for Gunther and his men were 
masters of the hall, and every Hun therein was slain. From the 
windows and down the staircase they threw the dead in heaps; 
seven thousand bodies and more. 

Day after day the multitude of Huns that surrounded them brake 
down the door and fought their way into the hall; yet came they 
not out any more, save through the windows, when Gunther’s 
men tumbled their bodies out upon the corpse-heap. 

Then Kriemhild sent to her brothers, saying, ‘ Give Hagan up 
to me, and I will make peace and answer for your lives. You 
cannot keep him from me long. Why perish with him 1 You 
are my brethren.’ But they sent answerback, ‘ We will not give 
our brave comrade up. We will have grace for all or none.’ 

Then the queen commanded to make fast the door, and burn 
down the hall. The Huns kindled it on all sides ; a fresh wind 
rose and wrapped the house in fire. Loud roared the flames; 
billows of smoke all flecked with fire went rolling up to the sky. 

The heat was terrible ; but Hagan said, ‘ Ihere is blood enough 
within to quench the burning timbers as they drop. Stand close 
against the walls and get what air there is. The roof is vaulted 
and will not fall; the walls are stone. If we can only bear the 
heat and tread the fire-flakes out, we may escape.’ 

The smoke grew stifling hot, and parched their tongues so that 
they hung from their mouths with drought. They knew not what 
to do, till they saw one stoop down to a corpse yet warm and 
draw the blood. Then drank they all the self-same draught, and 
the blood new strung their sinews, quenched their thirst, and 
made them fierce. 

So it befell that in the morning when the Huns went to the 


The Nibeliing Story, 311 

hall to seek the ashes of their enemies, they found them yet alive, 
and guarding the smoking doorway sword in hand. Twelve 
hundred men, urged forward by the queen, stormed a passage in ; 
but Gunther’s men drave out some of them, and slew the rest and 
ramparted the doorway with their bodies. 

When Kriemhild found it vain for the Huns to contend against 
her kinsmen, she went with King Etzel to Kudeger and bes^ought 
his help. He said, ‘ How can I '1 They have eaten of my bread 
and pledged me in the wine-cup. My daughter is betrothed to 
(Jiselher. I brought them hither. I have no cause of Jtrife with 
one of them. I pray thee ask me not.’ Then she reminded him 
of his pledge : ‘ Didst thou not promise to be first to avenge me 
on a wronger] I hold thee to thy w’ord.’ Then Rudeger was 
heart-sorry, and said to the king, ‘Take back, I pray, all the lands 
and castles I hold of thee, and let me go away and wander over 
the earth without purse or scrip ; but constrain me not to do this 
thing.’ Then both king and queen fell down at his feet, and 
clasped his knees and intreated him very sore, till he said, ‘ God 
help me, for I put my soul in jeopardy. No man will ever trust 
Rudeger more; nor take him for a friend. For my oath’s sake I 
will go, but for my name’s sake God grant that I come not back 
alive.’ 

Giselher looked out and saw Rudeger riding at the head of five 
hundred knights, and he said to his brothers, ‘Rejoice, for here 
cometh an unlooked-for succour from my father-in-law.’ When 
Rudeger was come before the hall he set his shield at his feet, 
and greeted the men of Burgundy but defied them not. He 
said, ‘It is not of my will I join this fray. I have no choice. 
Stand well on your defence, for I am become your foe.’ 

Then said Gunther, ‘ God forbid that you should turn against 
us. You cannot fight with us, nor we with you, for nothing can 
make us aught but friends.’ Gernot said likewise, ‘Your gifts 
are in our hands ; God’s blessing on you for your kindness ! The 
sword you gave has never failed me through this fight. But how 
could I strike the giver with his gift ] ’ Moreover Giselher 
prayed him, ‘ If thou canst not help us, at least turn back. Thou 
couldest not smite me, and widow thy daughter ere she be a 
bride.’ 

Rudeger was deeply moved, but he answered, ‘Ihave no 
choice; my word is passed. Quit you right manfully, and do not 
fear to strike for friendship’s sake. Think only of me as a foe. 
You cannot hate me more than I hate myself. But I will not go 
back.’ 


312 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Hagan said, ‘I thank thee for the shield Avhich Gotlind gave 
me. It has warded many a blow, though now being full of rifts 
and well-nigh hewn in twain, it is scarce fit for a man to bear 
in fight.’ 

Then Eudeger took up his own shield which lay at his feet and 
gave it to Hagan, saying, ^ Wield it well, and mayest thou bear it 
safe to Burgundy.’ 

Even the stern Hagan was melted at the gift. He said, ‘ Good 
friend, my hand shall never touch thee in the fray.’ 

No more they parleyed. Margrave Eudeger drew his sword 
and led his knights forward. Gunther and his brothers kept the 
gate, but stood aside and let him pass; in part, since they feared 
to strike the noble Eudeger, and partly because they thought to 
take his life more surely in the hall if his mind was bent to be 
their enemy. 

Eight faithfully Sir Eudeger behaved himself that day. He 
fought as a knight well used to battle, and quickly strewed the 
hall with dead. He would not stay his hand, nor parley with any 
man. Terrible waxed the slaughter, and the brothers were hard 
put to it for their lives. Then Gernot made Eudeger turn about 
and fight with him: for he said, ‘ You will not leave us here a 
single man alive.’ Fiercely they leaped upon each other, greedy 
of fame. Many a deadly stroke they warded, watching each 
other’s wary eyes. Then Eiideger’s blade came crashing down 
through Gernot’s helmet, and cut him to the brain. With his 
last strength Gernot lifted on high the sword which Eudeger had 
given him and slew the giver therewith, cleaving him through 
shield and mail-coat down the shoulder to the heart. Together 
they dropped dead. After that Gunther and his men spared none 
in their fury. Many an unwounded knight was trampled down 
in the press and stifled among the dead. At eventide a little 
band of the Burgundians were left alive but well-nigh fainting 
with the heavy strife. Their enemies were slain; they .were 
masters of the hall again. For weariness they laid them down upon 
the dead to rest; but as they espied the bodies of Eudeger and 
Gernot they wept. 

Kriemhild listened without the hall till the din and clamour 
ceased. But Eudeger returned not nor his men. Then bitterly 
she cried, ‘ 0 woe is me, to trust half-hearted friends! If Eudeger 
had been steadfast all would have been well: but he has made 
some treaty with them, and betrayed me. He has lied.’ 

Volker heard her, and looked out from the hall window and 
spake to the queen : ‘ If anything were a-wanting to reveal the 


3'3 


The Nibelung Story, 

blackness of your heart, it were your deeming Riideger could be 
treacherous. Lady, he died for you.’ And he lifted Rudeger’s 
body at the window that the queen might see. 

Kriemhild saw, and wailed and sobbed in tearless grief. The 
margrave dead in vain ! Her aching eyelids were too hot to 
weep. 

But King Etzel did nothing but moan, saying, ‘ Would that I 
had a man to slay this traitor Hagan, and leave the land in 
quietness! ’ 

Sir Dietrich heard how Rudeger and his men were slain, 
and lie said, ‘ This is a foul deed of the Burgundians. They 
never had so fast a friend as Rudeger. • His life at least they 
might have spared and made him prisoner. I never loved a 
man so well as I loved Rudeger. If they have slain him they 
shall answer for it.’ Then gathered he his men, and there came 
with him old Hildebrand and Wolfhart, Helfrich arid Helm not, 
Wolfwine and Wolfbrand, and a great company of warriors. 
And they came to the hall and demanded to know the truth of 
the matter. Hagan told them : ‘ Alas, the tale is all too true. 
We grieve for Rudeger as much as you can. We bore him no 
enmity nor he us, but he fought us for his oath’s sake to the 
queen. He wrought us more mischief than an enemy. He 
would not yield nor parley. To right and left he slew our men. 
What could we do l ’ Wolfhart said, ‘ ’Tis vain to make excuse 
for such a crime. I could not sorrow more for my own father 
than for Rudeger. Where is the man that loved him not ? And 
you, his friends and mine, have slain him. Cursed be your 
friendship! ’ 

Then Hildebrand demanded that they should give up the 
body of Rudeger to them for burial. But Hagan would not. 
‘Nay,’ said he, ‘the margraves body is ours. He lived and 
died our friend ; and none can pay him equal honour at his 
burial. Of dire misfortune, not of malice, we smote him. We 
honour and love him. We mourn most for him. If you would 
have his body, come and take it if you can, and if you dare.’ 

Wrathful at this defiance, the knights of Dietrich thronged on 
the men that kept the gate: they bore them down and forced a 
way upstairs into the hall. The dwindled band of Burgundians 
fought with a lion-like courage and sold their lives full dear. 
But one by one their champions dropped. Volker was slain by 
Hildebrand ; Helfrich struck Dank wart down; Wolfhart took 
young GiselJier’s life. Not unavenged they fell. So fiercely 
fought that little band that when the sun began to sink the 


314 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

numbers on either side were at last grown equal. Onl}' four 
were left alive—Gunther and Hagan ; Dietrich and Hildebrand. 

‘ i^ou are faint and weary, both of you,’ said Dietrich; ‘ no 
renown could we win by conflict. Wherefore yield yourselves 
up, and I will answer for your lives and see you safely back to 
Burgundy.’ 

‘ That were a shameful thing,’ answered Hagan, ‘ for two to 
yield to two. Never since we have been in Hungary have we 
fought such easy odds. If you fear, yield yourselves, or get fresh 
champions. We fear not.’ So they fell to; Hagan with Dietrich, 
Gunther with Hildebrand. 

Hagan drove Dietrich through the hall and down the stairs 
into the open plain; there Hagan’s strength failed him, and 
Dietrich dealt him a sword-wound deep and long that fetched 
him swooning to his knees. Then warily he approached the 
fainting man, sprang on him, locked his body in his arms, and 
bound him with a heavy cord. In like manner Hildebrand 
served Gunther, for he stunned the wearied king with a mighty 
blow upon the helm and bound him fast. 

Dietrich brought the tired captives in their bonds to Kriem- 
hild. The queen laughed merrily and loud, and said, ‘ Thanks, 
good Sir Dietrich.’ Then she spake softly to Gunther, saying, 
‘Welcome, my brother. I give you hearty welcome. And 
Hagan—he is welcome too.’ But there was hunger in her hot 
red eyes. So Sir Dietrich being beguiled by the gentleness of 
her speech, and heeding not the strangeness of her way, left both 
the captives in the queen’s charge, commending them to her 
good care ; and took his leave. 

But no sooner was Sir Dietrich gone than the Queen com¬ 
manded her servants to lock the prisoners in two dungeons 
apart the one from the other. 

Kriemhild went down to Hagan in his prison-house, and looked 
him in the face with a long wistful stare, but spake not. Then 
she asked fiercely, ‘ Where is my gold % My bright red gold % 
Give back my gold and I will set you free.’ 

He looked at her, bewildered at the hunger of her eyes, but 
answered, ‘ The gold 1 I took an oath to tell no living soul 
where it was hid so long as one of my lords was alive. Two of 
them are dead, but Gunther lives yet.’ 

Then she went away saying within herself, ‘ Gunther keeps 
me from my gold. How dares he ! ’ And she spake to her 
servants, ‘ Quick go to Gunther’s dungeon. Bring me his head.’ 

They brought the ghastly thing all bleeding to her. She took 


The Nibelung Story, 315 

it by the hair and went to Hagan. She spake fast and eagerly— 
‘ See ! he is dead ! Not one of them is left alive. Gunther is dead 
and Gernot and Giselher. Naught hinders. Tell me where you 
hid my gold, my blood-red gold h ’ 

He answered, ^ None knows now but God and I. And I will 
never tell! * 

Against her bosom she clutched a sword with a golden handle. 
A jasper glittered in the pommel; the scabbard was trimmed 
with red. She flashed it forth; in both hands lifted up her 
husband’s blade on high and smote off Hagan’s head at a blow. 

King Etzel sorrowed for Hagan. He bent his grey head upon 
his hands and leaned his elbows on his tottering knees. He 
mouthed and whined, ‘Alas for Hagan! Well-a-day 1 To think 
the noblest knight that ever wielded sword should die by a 
woman’s hand at last! I need must weep for him.’ 

But Hildebrand ran down into the dungeon; saw Kriemhild 
gloating like a flend over the headless corpse ; and half in fury, 
half in pity, drew his sword and struck the mad woman dead. 

In the great mead-hall -they served the feast; the savoury 
meat was set; the cup out-poured. Alone sat old King Etzel 
and Sir Dietrich at the board and wept. They drank not 
of the mead-horn; their meat was sorrow; tears had they 
for drink. So Pain dogs Pleasure’s steps. Ended was the feast. 


Maltcr of J-quitaittc, 


I. THE BETROTHAL OF WALTER AND HILDEGUND. 

From the Eastern lands far away the host of the Huns swept on 
like a whirlwind, and the hearts of all men failed for fear, lest 
on them might fall the sword of Etzel the Scourge of God. 
OnM’^ard he went to the fair city of Worms, where King Gibich 
ruled his Niflungs in the vine-clothed land of the Khine: but 
there was none who dared to lift hand against him, and the 
Niflung King was glad to buy peace of Etzel with gold and 
blood, for the Hun must have hostages for the good faith of him 
who sent the treasure. So the young Hagan was sent to Etzel, 
for Gibich was loth to send his son Gunther, who was yet a babe 
lying on his mother’s breast; and straightway Etzel hastened 
away from Worms to spread havoc through the rich lands of 
Herrich the Burgundian King. From the high tower of Chalon 
the warder saw the clouds of dust thickening in the far distance, 
and he hastened to the king with the tidings. ‘ The hosts of the 
Huns are rolling hither,’ he said, ‘ like the white-crested billows 
on the sea.’ But the tidings of the craven pact which Gibich 
had made came even more swiftly than the armies of Etzel, and 
King Herrich knew that he too must buy peace from the men 
witli whom his Burgundians dared not light. So he sent 
messengers who went in the guise of conquered men without 
their arms, and told their errand to the Hunnish king. ‘ Thy 
master is no fool,’ said Etzel to the bode, ‘ since he knows that 
lat peace is better than lean war. I too love a good bargain, 
and I have a sword. So let your king come to me.’ But Etzel 
would not be contented with gold only, and King Herrich was 
forced to send his own child Hildegund, the fairest maiden in all 
the land. 

Eurcher yet to the West swept the Huns of Etzel till they 
came to the lands of the Basques where Alphar the father of 



Walter of Aquitaine, 317 

Walter was the king: and Alphar knew straightway that the 
covenant which he had made with Herrich had -been made in 
vain ; for it had been sworn between them that when the youth 
of Hildegund and Walter should be ripe, they should wed 
together, and the land of Burgundy and Spain should be one 
realm. ‘ The Niflungs and the hosts of Herrich stood not before 
Etzel,’ he said, ‘ and I too must yield up my treasures and my 
son.' Glad at heart was the King of the Huns as he feasted his 
eyes on the treasure: and when he departed homewards to hide 
it in a strong cairn, Walter the son of Alphar went with him. 

But yet more glad was Etzel, when, as he came once more 
under his own roof, he looked at the weapon which had smitten 
down his foes. ‘ Best thee, my sword, and be still,’ he said; 
‘ thou hast had thy fill of blood. I too will rest, and the sounds 
of song and revelry shall be heard throughout my halls, until 
the whole land shall ring with the glory of my feasting.’ So 
rested Etzel from the toil of strife, and the hostages had kindly 
treatment at his hand. By his side grew up Walter and Hagen, 
getting all knightly learning and craft, while Hildegund abode 
ill the chambers of Helche the queen, who trained her in house¬ 
wifely arts and made her the mistress and guardian of all her 
treasures. Meanwhile King Gibich had died at Worms in the 
land of the Franks, and Gunther liis son, now that he was king 
in his father’s place, would not keep the shameful pact with the 
Huns, and from that day forth sent no more tribute to Etzel. 
No sooner were the tidings brought to Hagen than he fled away, 
nor stayed anywhere to rest until he reached his liome: but 
Walter was carrying on war for Etzel when the news came, 
and from this strife too, as from all others, he came back 
conqueror. 

Full of fear was the heart of Queen Helche, when she knew 
that Hagen had fled, and she hastened to speak with her lord. 
‘ The props of our sway are tottering,’ she said ; ‘ Hagen is gone, 
and if we take not good heed, Walter will follow in his steps. 
Speak then cunningly to him and say, “Never was warrior 
dearer to me than thou art, and well I know that thou hast not 
spared thy strength or thy blood in serving me. But Etzel 
requites not his friends with mere words: and it is time that I 
should show in deed how much I love thee. Look round and 
seek throughout the land for a bride, and I will give her a 
dowry such as no king has ever bestowed on his daughter.” 
Tell him this, and it may be he will remain true to us.’ The 
words of Helche seemed good to Etzel, and he spoke, as slie 


318 Popzdai'' Roznances of the Middle Ages, 

bade him, to Walter. But Walter had long since set it in his 
heart to break the yoke from off his neck. So, having thonglit 
within liimself for a while, he thanked Etzel for his proffered 
bounty, but a wife he said that he could not take. ‘ If I choose 
a bride, I shall be tempted to stay at home, wasting my days in 
pleasant ease, and the thought of war will become hateful to me. 
Bid me do anything else, and whether it be at rnorningtide or 
in the evening, I am ready to do it, and to do it with the more 
gladness that I ’have neither wife nor children for whom I need 
to spare my blood.’ Thus he besought the king to press him no 
more, and Etzel believed his words. 

But now there came to Walter by a sure hand the tidings that 
the Franks of King Gunther had taken heart, and that the hosts 
of the Niflungs were making ready to march against the Huns 
and King Etzel with bow and shield and spear. The news filled 
Walter’s heart with a fierce joy, and with the choicest of the 
warriors by his side he set the bands of the Huns in array for a 
mimic battle. Loud and long rose the war-cries, and oak and 
ashen lances clashed in grim play together, while the glitter of the 
spears was like the lightning’s flash, or the quivering of snow¬ 
flakes driven before the storm. But when spears and arrows 
were all spent, the heat of the strife was so kindled in their hearts, 
that with drawn swords they rushed wildly against each other, 
and soon many a horse and many a warrior lay dead upon the 
ground. High above all rose the sword of Walter, and the 
bravest of the warriors shrank away from his stroke, till, at last, 
he drew from his side a golden horn, and praising his men for 
their prowess, threw an oak wreath round his head, and amid 
banner-bearers and warriors hastened in triumph to the castle of 
King Etzel, where many a squire came forth to hold his horse. 

‘ How went it in the battle, lord Walter F they asked; but little 
said he to them, for he was weary, and he went on quickly to the 
great hall, where he found the maiden Hildegund alone, and 
greeted her with the kiss of honour. ‘ Give me a cup of wine,’ 
he said, ‘ that I die not of thirst; ’ and Hildegund gave him a 
golden goblet of sparkling wine, which he drained off at a 
draught. Then as he gave back the beaker, his eyes rested lov¬ 
ingly on the maiden, and as she looked timidly and blushing 
towards him, he took her by the hand and said, ‘ Long have we 
shared the same lot, and lived as hostages in the land of strangers 
and foes; long have we been far from each other, even when we 
were near ;• and long have we forgotten the bond that is between 
us, and the covenant of our fathers. Why hide it longer from 
ourselves 1 Let us call their oath to mind.’ 


Walter of Aqintahie, 319 

^ But Hildegund feared that Walter was but jesting, and she sat 
silent awhile till she had put her thoughts in order. Then she 
said, ‘ Thy voice has a sweet sound, if thy words be true. But 
art tliou not mocking me, Walter] Thou canstmake choice from 
all the maidens of the land, and Etzel himself has pledged thee 
his word that whosoever she be, the maiden whom thou choosest 
shall be thine. How canst thou, who mightest have a king’s 
daughter, think save in jest on the poor maiden Hildegund ] ’ 

‘ Away with these dreams,’ said Walter ; ‘ my word is as true as 
gold. Only look gently upon me, and tell me that thou wilt keep 
my trust, and I will tell thee all the secrets of my heart.’ Then 
Hildegund sank sobbing on his breast, as she said, ‘ My greatest 
joy on earth is to do thee service, and to have thy thanks is my 
highest reward.’ And Walter answered, ‘ Our exile makes me 
sick at heart, and in bitter grief my thoughts wander away to the 
Fatherland. Long have I yearned to flee away, like Hagen : but 
I could not go for very shame that Hildegund should remain 
behind me alone.’ Then from the depths of Hildegund’s heart 
came the words, ‘ To follow thee, my lord, in need and peril is the 
one yearning of my soul: and right gladly will 1 go to live with 
thee at home or to die.’ ‘Listen then to me,’ whispered Walter 
in her ear, ‘ and give good heed to my words. The treasures of 
Etzel and Helche are in thy keeping. Take from that treasure 
the triply-woven coat of mail, and the helmet which thou knowest 
for its cunning workmanship. Take also two chests and fill them 
with jewels of gold till thou canst not lift either to thy breast; 
and be ready with all that we need for the journey, when the sun 
shall have sunk seven times in the west. Then will I bid the 
Huns to a feast, in which the hall shall swim with wine; but 
though men and maidens drain the flashing goblets, drink thou 
but sparingly, and when the women rise up from the banquet, 
make haste and do that which I bid thee. While the men are 
slaves to wine, we will speed away at eventide to the land of our 
fathers.’ 

So passed the seven days, and Walter made high festival for - 
King Etzel and Queen Helche and all the chieftains of the Huns. 
Brightly flashed the wine in gold and crystal goblets; but the 
men yet tarried at the banquet board, when the women had gone 
to Helche’s chamber and there let their tongues run free. Then 
from the nail Walter took down the great horn, and kneeling 
before the throne of Etzel he said : ‘ 0 peerless in war and battle, 
show us that thou art peerless also in quaffing the blood-red 
wine.’ Taking the horn from his hand, as Walter’s drink*vg 


320 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 


song echoed through the hall, the king drained the vessel at a 
single draught, and after him the horn and the song went round 
to all the guests. There was hurrying to and fro of busy feet as 
the menials passed each other, some bringing in the foaming 
beakers, others going out with empty goblets. Shame was it for 
the man who should lag in the race; so all did their best, and 
the wine did its best also. Loud grew the songs and shouts of 
the wassailers and the clatter of the wine-cups, till all lay like 
the dead on a battle-field, and Sleep came down with heavy 
wings to seize the prey stretched out before him. 

Iben hurrying from the hall, Walter bade Hildegund hasten to 
fetch the treasures, while from the stable he brought forth his 
mighty warhorse Lion. On either side of the saddle he hung one 
of the chests which the maiden had filled with golden jewels; and 
clad from head to heel in his armour, went forth with the maiden 
from the court which he should see again never more. 


II. THE BATTLE FOR THE GOLDEN HOARD. 

All night Walter and Hildegund hastened on, till the dawn 
light flushed the sky; and then, turning aside from the road, 
they plunged into the woods, lest haply Etzel’s men might espy 
them. But so full of fear was the maiden’s heart, that her 
limbs trembled if the wind moaned through the branches, or if 
the cry of a beast was echoed through the forest. 

Meanwhile, all was still in the halls of Etzel, until when many 
an hour had gone by in heavy slumber the chiefs arose and went 
to seek Walter, that they might thank him for the feast with 
which he had gladdened their hearts. Last of all came Etzel, 
holding his aching head in his hands, and half wishing that the 
same pain had fallen also to the lot of Walter: and, yet more, 
when the warriors told him that nowhere could they find their 
host, Etzel thought that in some hidden corner he must be sleep¬ 
ing off the fumes of the wine. But Helch the queen knew that 
Hildegund had fled, when she came not to do her wonted duty, 
and all the house was filled with the sound of her weeping! 
‘ Cursed be the banquet of yestereve which has cost two king¬ 
doms, and has robbed us at one stroke of the best of our treasures. 
As I foreboded, so has it all come to pass. Our hoard is gone, 
and with it are gone Craft and Purity, for Walter, the sun of our 



Walter of Aquita ine. 321 

land, has fled, and with him has departed Hildegiind, the light of 
my old age.’ 

The heart of Etzel swelled with rage and grief, as he rent his 
clothes and heat his breast; and his face betrayed the heaving of 
his soul within him, like the billows on a stormy sea. All that 
day he neither ate nor drank, and wdien night threw her shadow 
over the earth, he sank wearily on his bed. But sleep came not 
to his eyes; and many a time he sat up on his couch like one 
astonished, as thought after thought of sorrow and anger hurried 
through his mind. At last the morning came; and the king 
gathered his chiefs in counsel. ‘ Bring me,’ he said, ‘ chained 
and muzzled, the Gothic dog which has run away, and I will give 
to the man who does me this service gold so deep that he may 
stand in it as a stake may stand in the corn.’ But brave and strong 
though his warriors were, yet none dared venture to match him¬ 
self in single fight with the son of Alphar. For them life was 
better than gold, and none stirred from his place. Thus it came 
to pass that Walter journeyed on in peace with Hildegund, by 
night on the open road, by day through the dim forests, until 
they had seen the sun forty times journey across the wide 
heaven, and twice beheld the full orb of the moon shed its soft 
light over hills and streams and valleys. 

Then beneath them they saw the green waters of the Rhine, 
and the towers of Worms in the far distance. To the ferryman 
who carried them across Walter gave not money but fish from 
his net, and leaving him, he wandered on with Hildegund by the 
light of the moon. But when the morning came the old ferryman 
hastened to the palace of King Gunther to sell the fish which 
Walter had given him. ‘Whence came these fish?’ asked the 
king; ‘ the Rhine never had them in its waters.’ Then the ferry¬ 
man told his story, how yestereve there came to his ferry a 
wmrrior clad from head to heel in bright steel armour, with a 
shield on his left hand and a spear in his right, while close 
behind him came a maiden leading his warhorse. ‘ The steed 
was laden with two chests,’ he said, ‘ and, I take it, they were 
not empty. When the horse shook them as he moved, there 
was a sound within, mightily like the rattling of jewels and gold. 
This knight gave me the fish for the fare across the Rhine.’ ‘ It 
is Walter my comrade,’ said Hagen, as he heard the old man’s 
words; ‘he is coming back from the land of the Huns.’ ‘Rejoice, 
my brave warriors,’ shouted Gunther, so that the hall-roof rang; 
‘the gods are bringing to us again the treasure which King 
Gibich yielded up to Etzel.’ Then at his bidding his war-steed 

X 


32 2 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

was saddled, and twelve knights with Hagen mounted their 
horses to go with the king; for so great a treasure, he said, must 
not go out from the land. But Hagen was loth that wrong should 
be done to his old friend; so he told them of the might of 
Walter’s arm, and that no man yet had been able to withstand 
him. But the heart of Gunther was fixed on the treasure, and 
he turned a deaf ear to the warnings of Hagen. 

Meanwhile, the path which Walter took with Hildegund led 
them deep in the forest till they came to a cave so overhung 
by two huge rocks, that scarcely could any who passed it know 
that there was aught within. Glad was Walter when he spied 
this resting-place, for since he left the Huns’ land he had not 
dared to do more than to lean upon his spear, and his limbs 
were now sorely wearied and his eyes weighed down with the 
sleep against which he had striven so long. So taking off his 
armour, he stretched himself on the ground while his head lay in 
the maiden’s lap; and bidding her watch and wake him if she 
saw the dust of horsemen afar off, he fell asleep. 

But Gunther had marked the tread of their feet and the point 
of his horse’s hoofs, and he laughed in his heart as he charged 
his warriom to make haste, for the Goth and his hoard would 
soon be taken. ‘ Nay, 0 king,’ said Hagen, ^ be warned in time. 
Walter is no child. Hadst thou seen him but once in the fight, 
thou wouldst have seen that this fox is not easily trapped. 
Many a time have I trod the same path with him, and never 
have I known him leave a foe alive.’ But Gunther spurred his 
horse, and rode on the more eagerly. 

From the cave Hildegund saw the cloud of dust raised by the 
horsemen, and she woke Walter with a kiss. ‘ Why may I not 
sleep ? ’ he asked raising his head. ‘ There,’ she answered, 
‘ along the wood comes a troop of horsemen.’ Straightway 
Walter shook the sleep from his eyes, and clothing himself in 
his burnished armour, stood at the entering in of the cave. But 
Hildegund trembled as Gunther and his men pressed on. ‘ They 
are the Huns,’ she said; ‘ have pity on me and slay me. If I 
may not be thy wife, let none other lay hands upon me.’ Then 
with a smile Walter pressed her to his side, as he said, ‘My 
sword longs not for blood so dear to me as thine ; it shall bathe 
in the life stream of my foes. So be of good cheer, Hildegund. 
The weapon which has aided me thus far will help me yet again. 
Nay,’ he added, as the horsemen drew nearer, ‘ these are not 
Huns. They are the Niflungs of Frank-land, and with tliem cornea 
my comrade Hagen.’ Then placing himself at the mouth of the 


Wliter of A quit aim, 323 

cave, he charged Hildeguiid to be of good cheer, ‘for i)ot a 
Frank,’ he said, ‘ shall ever say to his bride, that lie has won 
witlioiit a blow the golden hoard of Walter.’ 

There, as Hagen saw the goodly form of Walter, he turned 
once more to Gunther, ‘ Be not mad,’ he said, ‘ nor send thy 
knights to their death. It may be that he Avill peacefully yield 
his treasures, if thou wilt send a herald to him, when he knows 
it is the king who claims thena.’ This time Gunther followed 
his counsel, and the high steward, Gamelo of Metz was sent to 
ask AValter whence he had come and whither he was going. 
‘Comest thou of thyself,’ asked Walter, ‘or at the bidding of 
another ? ’ ‘ Yea,’ said Gamelo, ‘ I come at the bidding of the 

king, who will know wherefore thou rovest through his laud.’ 
‘Strange dealing is this,’ answered Walter, ‘to tease strangers 
with curious questions. But if he will know, go tell him that 
I am Walter the son of Alphar; that while I was yfet a child 
I was sent as a hostage into the Huns’ land; that through 
longing for the land of my fathers I have broken my fetters, 
and that I am going home.’ ‘Be it so,’ said Gamelo; ‘but first 
thou must yield up to the king thy horse and the burden which 
it carries, and the maiden with them; and in requital he will 
spare thee thy limbs and thy life.’ ‘ Thy beard is grey, old 
man,’ answered Walter, ‘but thou speakest as a very child. 
Will thy master sell the bear’s skin before he has caught the 
bear % But tell him, nevertheless, that if he will. let me go in 
peace, he shall have from my hoard a hundred bracelets of gold.’ 
‘ The word is good,’ cried Hagen; ‘ the jewels which his steed 
bears are right goodly. Take them and let him go, for my dreams 
tell me that there is storm and mischief in the air. I have 
seen in my vision a wild boar fighting with thee, and twice it 
bit thee to the very bone, and as I hastened to thy aid, it tore 
out my right eye with its tusk.’ ‘ Good,’ said Gunther ; ‘ thou 
followest in the ways of thy father, with his faint heart and fine 
words to hide it.’ Full of rage was Hagen, but he curbed his 
fury, and said only, ‘There stands Walter; go and fight him 
man to man. I will wait and see the issue.' So going to a 
hillock hard by, he sat down on his shield to see the battle. 
Then Gunther laughed with bitter scorn. ‘ The sermon is over,’ he 
said, ‘ and the dance may begin with fiddle and shawm.’ Straight¬ 
way, clad in his iron garb, Gamelo cried out to Walter : ‘ Hear, 
son of Alphar; yield up all thy treasure to the king of the 
Franks, or thy life shall pay the forfeit.’ But Walter held his 
peace, and suffered the old man to ride up nearer and bid liim 


324 Popular Romajiccs of the Middle Ages. 


again y ield up the hoard and the maiden. Then strode Walter 
from the mouth of the cave, and said, ‘ Why dost thou come 
hither, crying like a maddened hound ? Am I a thief that 
Gunther asks me to yield up that which is in my hands 1 Has 
lie lent me money on pawned goods that he seeks such usury % 
Do his people so hate all strangers as to let none pass through 
the land without paying toll for the road % Two hundred 
bracelets I am ready to yield to him ; do ye yet grudge it to me 
that I should make my journey in peace 1 ’ 

Wise were the words of Walter, and a fool was he who threw 
away his counsel. ‘ Thou bargainest not like a Goth but like a 
Jew,’ said Gamelo : ‘ not three hundred bracelets but thy whole 
treasure will I have, and with that for my prize I bid thee now 
to join me in the dance.’ So with a jest went Gamelo to his 
death, for Walter swerved aside from the spear which the old 
man threw, and the weapon was buried harmlessly in the earth. 
Then quick as thought, AYalter’s spear pierced Gamelo’s shield, 
and his sword smote off his right hand. Mad with fear his horse 
rose high in the air, and throwing its rider fell back on the earth. 
Twice fell the sword of Walter, and horse and man lay dead 
upon the ground. 

Then in deep grief rose up Skaramund, whom some called 
Gimo, nephew of Gamelo, and said, ‘ The fight is now mine be¬ 
fore all other men: I* will avenge his death, or die.’ With no 
vain-glorying he faced the son of Alphar. ‘ I come not to thee 
for thy treasure,’ he said : ‘ I demand of thee the recompense for 
the life of my uncle whom thy sword has smitten.’ ‘ What 
sayest thou % ’ asked Walter: ‘ had I begun the strife, then 
might thy sword rightfully drink my heart’s blood.’ Quick as 
liglitning came two spears from Skaramund’s hand : from the 
one Walter swerved aside, the other recoiled back from his 
shield. Short, though fierce, was the strife that followed, until 
as Skaramund turned his horse, the lance of Walter pierced him 
under his chin, and he fell senseless on the earth. Then in his place 
came Werinhard, who was famed to have like bow-craft with his 
forefather Pandaros of Ilion. Thick came the arrows on Walter’s 
shield, and for a time Walter bore it peacefully; but his patience 
was soon pressed too far, and springing forward he said, ‘ Now 
may the dance move free,’ and yet a little while and Werinhard 
lay smitten by the side of Gamelo and Skaramund. After him 
came Eckefrit the Saxon, and threw forth words of foul scorn 
against Walter ; but he paid the penalty of evil speaking with 
his life, and Walter drove his horse within his hiding-place. 


W%lter of Aquitaine, 325 

But the strife was not ended, for then as the fifth champion 
came Hadawart, and called to Walter, ‘ Cunning worm, is thy 
body proof against all weapons, or against all over which the 
curse of the runes has not been muttered?’ But for all the words 
that he spake, and the fierce blows which he struck, Hadawart 
also lay soon among the dead. 

Then Patafrit, the son of Hagen’s sister, thought to avenge on 
Walter the death of the knights who had fallen, and the tears 
rushed into Hagen’s eyes as he saw his nephew going madly to 
his doom. ‘ Art thou mad and blind ? ’ he said. ‘ Surely the 
shadow of the Norns is on thee, and the sands of thy life are fast 
running out. 0 lust of gold, O cursed hunger, that grows keener 
as the feast goes on ! Who shall dry the tears which the longing 
for thee draws forth ? Who shall cherish a wife, who has first 
bound himself to thee ? Farewell, farewell,’ he cried, as the 
young man passed on ; and the mourning of Hagen struck on 
Walter’s ears as he kept watch at Waschenstein. The sorrow of 
his friend filled his own eyes with tears, as he cried to Patafrit, 
‘ Spare thyself, brave youth, and live for glorious deeds here¬ 
after.’ ‘ Why takest thou heed of my life V ‘ My business is with 
deeds, not words,’ answered Patafrit, as he hurled his lance at 
Walter, who })arried it with his spear and sent it like a feather 
through the air, till it fell at the feet of Hildegund. With a cry 
of fear she sank fainting to the ground ; but when her breath 
came to her again, and raising her eyes she saw that Walter was still 
unhurt, the life-blood once more coursed warmly through her veins. 
Twice yet or thrice Patafrit essayed to smite Walter, in spite of 
warnings, until, as he was bringing down his sword upon him, 
Walter bowled beneath his shield, and Patafrit was borne with 
his face to the earth. Once more he rose, and rushed with his 
sword against his enemy : but the wrath of- Walter was now 
awakened, and with a single stroke he dashed Patafrit lifeless 
to the ground. 

More fearful was the combat with Gerwich, the seventh of the 
Niflung champions. Not a word was spoken as the play of wea¬ 
pons went on, and fearfully the battle-axe of Gerwich came whirl¬ 
ing through the air. But vain were his strivings. Neither eye 
nor arm Ikiled Walter, who, biding his time, thrust his spear into 
his side : and Gerwich’s eyes grew dim in death. 

Through marrow and. bone the Franks shivered, as they saw 
his life-blood streaming from the wound, and one and all warned 
tiie king that the fight had gone on long enough. But Gunther’s 
eyes were blind with rage. ‘Noble warriors,’ he cried, ‘this 


3^6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

fear does you shame. Think of vengeance, not of flight. Out 
names are soiled for ever, if we go back discomfited from Was- 
chenstein. How will the noble ladies welcome us at Worms'! 
How will the people look on us who are their champions ! And 
is the Goth to triumph at our cost I had rather die a thousand 
deaths than look upon such foul disgrace. We came for gold and 
treasure; but now our prize must be blood. Death only can 
atone for death; and vengeance calls us on, till the man who fails 
to win it rests with the dead.' 

Again was the fierce flame kindled in their hearts by the 
words of Gunther, and they hastened to the fight as men may 
hasten to their sports. Room was there for two to fight before 
the wall of rock at Waschenstein ; but Walter was taken at 
unawares, for when the Franks fell back, he took off his helmet 
and hung it on a bush, that he might rest awhile from the fear¬ 
ful heat of the battle. With reins hanging loose from his horse’s 
neck, Randolf came hurrying before all the other knights, and 
with his mighty ashen spear headed with iron he smote at the 
heart of the Basque warrior ; and had not Wayland done his 
work well when he wrought the coat of mail, Walter’s days had 
then been ended. For the first time the sport seemed to him grim 
and dark, and his cheek was deadly pale. He could not get his 
helmet, for Randolf stood in the way; and now his enemy 
seizing his sword shore off two locks of hair from his head, 
which lay bare to every blow. But when Randolf brought it 
down with another stroke, the weapon stuck in the wood of 
Walter’s shield. Quick as lightning Walter drew in his shield, 
and Randolf was hurled from his seat. ‘ My locks of hair shall 
cost thee thy head,' said Walter, as he dealt him the stroke of 
death. 

Then the Niflung knights bethought them of a new device 
and Helm not hurried forward with a grappling-iron fixed to a 
triple-corded rope, which his comrades carried, that, so soon as 
the iron should fix itself on Walter’s shield, they might pull the 
rope with all their strength, and if so be, drag down Walter 
himself on the earth. Great would be their glory, if they could 
take him prisoner alive. Fiercely Helmnot hurled the iron, as 
he cried, ‘ Bald head, this grapnel brings thee thy doom : ’ and 
with a terrible hiss the hook bit into the wood of the shield. 
With a cry which made the forest ring, the Frankish warriors 
gave vent to their joy : and Gunther himself tugged at the 
grapnel sturdily. But vain was all their striving. Walter stood 
liim as the world-tree Yggdrasil, while three knights, Helmiioc, 


Walter of Aquitaine, 327 

Drogo, and Tannenast, sought with the king to conquer a single 
man. Then was the wrath of Walter kindled once more, and 
shieldless as he was and helmless, he strode forward and with 
one blow dashed out Helmnot’s brains ; but as he raised his 
hand to smite Drogo, the knight of Strasburg turned to fly. 
Entangled by the grappling-iron, he struggled to set liiraself free; 
but before he could do so, Walter smote him on the leg, and 
reaching forward grasped his shield. In furious rage Drogo 
espied a huge stone, which he hurled down on Walter, shatter¬ 
ing the shield which Walter had taken from him; but though 
Tannenast came to his aid, both were smitten down by the son of 
Alphar. 

So were ten of the bravest champions of the Niflungs over¬ 
thrown : and now King Gunther betook himself to Hagen whose 
warnings and prayers he had despised. But when he sought to 
appease him, Hagen answered angi'ily, ‘ Nay, why dost thou 
come to me % Am I not one from whom coldness of blood takes 
away all strength and courage in the battle-field ] Do I not 
follow in the trembling and womanly ways of my father ] And 
was not my counsel to thee nothing worth, so long as thou 
hadst thy brave warriors in whom thou mightest place thy 
trust?’ ‘Nay,’ said Gunther, ‘think not of the wrong that I 
have done to thee : think rather on our comrades who lie here 
before our eyes, stiff and cold. Grievous is it that wo have 
given cause for any to say, “ Look on the Frankish knights 
whom a stranger slew at Waschenstein, one fighting against 
twelve.” ’ And even as Gunther pleaded, he saw that Hagen’s 
mind was shaken, and he knelt before him, the king at his 
vassal’s knee, while the tears streamed from his eyes. Then the 
wrath of Hagen melted away like ice before the summer sun. 

‘ Kise up, my lord and king,’ he said : ‘ it is not seemly that 
thou shouldest kneel to me, thy knight and servant. Thine is 
my life and all that I have, and thy will shall be obeyed. But 
two things have I to say. Not for my nephew’s sake would I 
have sought to take revenge on Walter. His blood was on his 
own head. Nor will I dare to assail Walter in his stronghold. 
Victims enough, who have essayed this task, lie slaughtered 
before me. So long as he abides behind his walls of rock, not a 
hair of his head shall ever be hurt by us, though the whole host 
of the Franks were to dash themseWes against the bulwarks. 
Better far to suffer him to go his way quietly, and to la)' an anibush 
for him on his path.’ 

Bight glad was Gunther to have this counsel, and falling on 


328 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Hagen’s neck, he kissed him. Then they took their way through 
the forest, as the sun went down beneath the waters of the western 
sea and the moon rose up into the heaven. Presently Walter 
stood on the rocky ledge, looking keenly round to see whether his 
enemies were in truth gone. All was still, and Walter pondered 
within himself whether he should hasten away to the Basqueland 
while it was yet night, or wait till the morning should dawn. 
One thing alone seemed to him a sign of evil to come. What 
meant that kiss which Gunther gave to Hagen ^ That it meant 
harm he knew well : but whether they would come again with a 
fresh host, or lie in wait for him in secret, he could not say. Yet 
more he thought of all the perils of darkness, if he now left his 
stronghold with Hildegund; and so thinking he said boldly, 
‘ Come what may, here I tarry, till the sun laughs in the heavens 
again. Gunther shall never say that I fled from the land of the 
Franks like a thief in the night.’ So saying, he bound to the 
willow trees the six horses remaining from those which the slain 
knights had ridden, for two were dead, and Gunther and Hagen 
had taken the other three ; and when he had placed a rampart of 
stakes and branches around his stronghold, he ate and drank with 
Hildegund, and having bidden her watch during the dark hours, 
he fell asleep. 

Joyously the maiden kept her trust, glad at heart that Walter 
had come unhurt from the fearful battle. It was indeed sweet to 
keep guard over the sleep of such a bridegroom. The ravening 
wolf might cry in the wood, the roaring of the bear might be heard 
in the depths of the forest: but she was safe while Walter was 
'nigh. So she kept watch, singing many a song which she had 
learnt in Etzel’s house, telling of the deeds of mighty heroes, and 
of the glorious acts of Walter himself; and as she sang, the 
thought would come again and again, ‘ Am I worthy to be his 
bride V but then she remembered that she was sprung from the 
stock of the mighty Sigurd, the Volsung, and she called to mind 
his fight with the dragon of the glistening heath, and the rescuing 
of Brynhild, and the slaying of Begin. So thinking, she wrapped 
herself up in her joy, and in a soft and lulling tone she sang songs 
of love which fell soothingly on Walter’s ear as he lay slumbering 
peacefully before her. But long before the first streak of dawn 
tinged the eastern sky, Walter rose from his sleep, and bidding 
Hildegund rest, looked out eagerly for the morning light. At 
length the darkness was scattered, and he made ready for the 
journey. Four horses he led, himself riding on the fifth, while 
Hildegund rode on the sixth; but even as they left the wall of 


Walter of Aquitaine. 329 

rock, ho looked yet again, and listened for sight or sound of his 
foes. All was still as it had been, and with Hildegund and the 
treasure he took once more the way that led to tlie land of the 
Basques. 

But the maiden’s heart was filled with strange forebodings; and 
they had scarcely gone a league when looking back she saw the 
forms of two horsemen as they came from behind a neighbouring 
hill, riding with hot speed towards them. ‘ See, Walter,’ she 
cri^d, as she well-nigh fainted for fear, ‘ yonder come our enemies.’ 
* Yea, I see,’ answered Walter. ‘ It is Hagen who is playing me 
this trick. He would pluck from my head, I well know, the 
wreath which I have scarcely woven; but be not down-hearted. 
The peril is not great, if we measure it by that which we had to 
face yesterday. Do thou take the good steed that bears our 
treasure chests, and tarry with him in the thickest covert that 
thou canst find, while I give these men my greetings.’ 

Scarcely had Walter slung his shield on his arm and put his 
lance in rest when the voice of Gunther was heard uttering words 
of foul reviling. ‘ Ha ! venomous dog, hast thou slunk away from 
thy lair, and dost thou now show thy teeth like a wolf tracked by 
the hunter to his den % So we have caught thee at last in the 
open field, and now we shall see if the end of thy work fits on to 
its beginning.’ jN'ot a word spake Walter to Gunther, for all this 
foul speech : but to Hagen he turned and said gently: ‘ Stay, I 
have somewhat to say to thee. What has thus suddenly changed 
my friend into an enemy 1 Canst thou not call to mind the days 
w’hen the thought of parting from me was bitter to thee 1 Many 
a hope have I built on thee, and those hopes are all a cheat, if 
thou seekest to do me to death who have done thee no wrong. 
How many a time, in the hours of need and anguish since we left 
the Huns’ land, have I trusted in thee my ancient comrade ! 
How often have 1 said to Hildegund, “ Let me but reach the 
banks of the Rhine, and I bid farewell to fear. If Hagen lives, 
no one shall hurt a hair of our heads. He well knows that we are 
journeying homeward, and this only I fear, that he may seek to 
keep me too long under his roof, before he send us away laden 
with the gifts of his princely bounty, or go with us himself until 
we reach the march of Spain.” Thus often, as I spake of thee to 
Hildegund, the thought of thee chased away our care and sorrow; 
and must all the ancient friendsliip of the days when we were one 
heart and one soul go for nothing 1 My love for thee knew no 
bounds: yea, looking on thy face, I forgot even my father’s house: 
arid is it for this that thou huutest me fiercely from thy heart 1 


330 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

0 Hagen, if thou hast sworn an oath to G inther against 
me, forswear it righteously, and as a weregild for the men who 
have been slain, I will yield thee gladly a shield full of golden 
bracelets.’ 

But Hagen could not look Walter boldly in the face as he made 
answer, for his rough words hid the true meaning of his heart, 

‘ Nay, Walter,’ he said, ‘ it is thou who doest the wrong. Thy 
words sound fair; but thou art the breaker of our troth. Has 
not thy sword slain my comrades who lie slaughtered atWaschen- 
stein ? Yet had I pardoned thee in this, hadst thou not done a 
worse deed, when thou didst slay my sister’s son in the flush of 
his early youth, like an opening flower mowed down by the scythe 
of the reaper.’ Straightway Hagen leaped into his saddle, and 
Gunther did the like, and the warriors stood face to face for the 
deadly strife. Swift from Hagen’s hand sped the lance against 
Walter’s shield, but, glancing off, the weapon was buried to the 
shaft in the earth. Less swift sped the spear of Gunther, and 
scarce hitting the shield-rim, sank lazdly into the sand. For a 
moment the Nifling warriors looked fixedly at each other, then 
drawing each his sword, moved again towards the son of Alphar. 
But naught could they do against him, and in his folly Gunther 
sware that he would get back his spear which lay at Walter’s feet. 

‘ Give heed, Hagen,’ he said, ‘ and keep him off me, if thou canst, 
till I seize the lance.’ Quickly thrusting his sword into its sheath, 
the king gi'asped the spear-shaft; but pushing Hagen back with 
his lance, Walter sprang on Gunther, and would have dealt him 
his death-blow, had not Hagen covered him with his shield. In 
that moment the king regained his spear, and the game of blood 
went on again more fiercely till, weary with heat and toil and 
watching, Walter cried to Hagen, ‘ Why do we thus tourney here 
all day % Well I know that thy limbs are full of might: make 
trial of thy strength with me, and let us close together.’ So 
speaking, he hurled his spear and smote Hagen on the side : but 
the steel of his corslet so guarded him that the wound was but 
slight. Tarrying not a moment, Walter drew his sword, and 
rushing on Gunther dealt a fearful stroke against his leg, and the 
king’s right foot was hurled far away into the bushes. Deadly 
pale turned Hagen, as he saw Gunther fall, but he hastened to 
parry with his own body the death-stroke from the sword which 
gleamed iu Walter’s hand. Down it came on Hagen’s helmet \ 
but so firmly was it welded that its blade was shivered into bits. 
Forgetting himself for a moment, Walter raised his arm to hurl 
away the haft, when Hagen smote off the hand which in ^ 


Walter of Aquitaine. 331 

thousand battles no man had ever been able to withstand. But 
heeding not the fierce pain or the blood which streamed from the 
stump. Walter thrust his right arm into the handle of the shield, 
and drawing his short Hunnish sword from his left side, smote 
Hagen fiercely on his face. Ei^^ht well the weapon did its work. 
Cloven to the teeth was Hagen’s cheek, and his right eye lay 
bleeding on the earth. Thus were the treasures shared which 
Walter brought from the Hun’s land, and thus was the strife 
ended between them, for only for Gunther’s sake had Hagen 
fought with Walter. 


Iir. THE WEDDING OF WALTER AND HILDEGUND IN THE 
BASQUELAND. 

Then at Walter’s bidding came Hildegund, and gently and 
cunningly she tended their wounds; but weak though they were 
in strength, yet neither to Hagen nor Walter did heart or courage 
fail, and each could jest at the other for his plight without anger 
or evil will. ‘Bring hither the Goblet, Hildegund,’ said Walter, 

‘ and give it first to Hagen, then to me, and last to Gunther, for 
Hagen, if he be weak in his troth, hath borne himself right 
warriorly, but Gunther’s arm has been slack and his blows with¬ 
out weight.’ ‘Nay,’said Hagen, ‘I deserve not to drink first. 
Give the cup to thy betrothed. He is peerless among all heroes.’ 
So passed between them the merry jest, and Hagen greeted 
Walter by the name of the sword-god Zio, who left his right hand 
in the mouth of the wolf Fenrir, while Walter bade Hagen make 
ready for the welcome which the men of Worms should give to 
Wodan who left his eye in pledge at the well of Mimir. So was 
the old love renewed between them, and when the time of parting 
was come, Hagen said, ‘ I may not now go home with thee, but 
I will send one with thee who shall guard thee well, even Volker 
whose harping none may withstand, and who knows all the paths 
of the land and the sea.’ Then they parted, Hagen to go with 
Gunther to Worms, and Walter to journey on to Basqueland; 
and when the next morning dawned, Volker came with many a 
brave knight to guide the son of Alphar to his home. So was he 
guarded from the wrath of Ortwine, the heir of Gamelo ; and they 
went on safely to the march of Spain, whence Walter sent two 
men to tell Alphar that his son was coming home. Full of joy 
was the old man, and right glad were all when they heard the 



332 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

iidings. ‘Why tarry weJ’ said Alphar. ‘If any would have 
my thanks, let him come with me to greet the hostage-children.’ 

Eagerly the warriors went forth, and with them came many a 
fair maiden whom Hilda the queen sent with gifts of snow-white 
raiment for Walter’s bride. Along the road as they passed, the 
greetings of the people rose long and loud in the air; and all, as 
(heir eyes rested on Hildegund, thought that never had so fair a 
face been seen in Basqueland. Then cried Alphar in the ears of 
r 11 the people, ‘ The crown has long weighed too heavy on my 
head. Let Walter wear it now and the shout of ‘Walter our 
king’ was echoed over hill and vale. Joyous was the banquet of 
that day, but the guests spake of a day still more joyous when 
Hildegund should become the wife of Walter : and near and far 
went the messengers to those who should be bidden to that high 
festival. To the Burgundian land they went, and the heart of 
King Herrich was made glad that his child had been brought 
from the house of Etzel, and that she should share the throne and 
kingdom of Walter. From Worms were bidden King Gunther 
and Hagen, and with them again came the sweet harper Volker; 
and to Kiel went other messengers to bid Etzel himself to the 
marriage, and others to Lombardy to summon Hildebrand and 
Dietrich. Thus were Walter and Hildegund wedded, and the 
oath was brought to pass which Alphar and Herrich had sworn, 
before King Etzel with his Huns rushed like a whirlwind from 
the laud of the rising sun. 


‘3rite §tot2 of ^uglitetrklt anb ^ilbcburg. 


Great in name and power, and rich in all things that make men 
wealthy, King Antzius ruled over the Greeks in Constantinople; 
but for all his splendour and might his heart was full of care, for 
the cold touch of death was upon him, and he knew that he must 
soon die. So he spake with his trusty friend, Duke Berchtung 
of Meran, and said, ‘ Loyal and true comrade, few hours remain 
to me here. When I am gone, be thou a father to my child 
Hugdietrich.’ ‘ Of a surety I will,’ answered Berchtung; ‘ but 
for many a long day may thine heart be gladdened with the sight 
of his fair face and his glistening eyes and the golden locks which 
stream in glory over his shoulders.’ ‘Nay,’ said the king, ‘it 
may not be: ’ and it came to pass even as he had said, and the 
ihild remained in the keeping of Berchtung. 

Twelve summers had well-nigh passed over his head, when 
Hugdietrich spake to his master, ‘Give me thy counsel in a 
weighty matter, and bring it to a good issue. My mind is set to 
win me a wife. I have honour and power and a wide realm: if 
I die, whose shall be this heritage 1’ ‘In many a land have I 
sojourned both far and near,’ answered Berchtung, half smiling, 
‘but never a maiden have I seen who may be a fit bride for 
thee.’ 

Then throughout his kingdom Hugdietrich sent messengers to 
summon all his knights to meet him : and when they were come 
together, the king put to them the same question. But all 
answered, ‘The counsel must come from thy master;’ and turn¬ 
ing again to Berchtung, the king besought his aid in the matter. 
Then said Berchtung, ‘In Saloniki dwells King Walgund with 
his fair wife Liebgart; but fairer far is his daughter Hildeburg, 
and of all earthly maidens there is none other whom I deem 
worthy to wed with thee. But her face no man may see. High 
up in a lone tower the maiden lives among her women, for her 
father has sworn that no man shall make her his wife, and though 
a kaiser himself should ask for her, he would say him nay. All 
day long the watchman walks the battlements to spy out any who 
may draw near to the tower: and all through the night the 


334 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

warder paces round her chamber. To what purpose then do T 
tell thee this 1 With all thy might and for all thy wealth thou 
mayest never win her.’ ‘Be not too sure of this,’ said the king : 

‘ only give me thine aid, by the troth which thou hast pledged to 
my father and to me. My heart is fixed upon this maiden: 
wherefore hearken to me. I will learn to spin and sew, and 
broider with silk and gold. Seek me out then the best mistress 
throughout all the Greek-land, who may make me right cunning 
in all the arts of women. If I may not ask for the maiden openly, 
I must win her by craft.’ Even so they sought him out the best 
mistress, and while twelve moons went round Hugdietrich learnt 
his lesson at her side, clad in woman’s garb, with his hair stream¬ 
ing over his snow white shoulders. Then, when the year was 
ended, he spake again with Berchtung, and said, ‘ Tell me now, 
dear friend, in what guise I should go to Saloniki: ’ and Berch¬ 
tung said, ‘ Fifty bold knights shalt thou take with thee, four 
hundred squires, and six and thirty maidens clad in rich attire. 
Take with thee also thy richest tent, and when thou comest near 
the town of Salneck, bid them set it up on the plain, and then sit 
on thy throne, with thy maidens and horsemen round thee; and 
so soon as King Walgund sends to ask the reason of thy coming, 
say, “I am a princess from Constantinople; and my brother 
Hugdietrich has driven me away because I would not at his will 
wed with an unbaptised heathen. Let me then tarry with thee 
till my brother’s wrath shall have passed away.’” 

Right glad was Hugdietrich at Berchtung’s counsel: and with 
the knights and squires and maidens he drew near on the 
eighteenth day to the town of Salneck. Brightly gleamed his 
jewelled tent on the plain, and brightly flashed the jewels on his 
throne, when the knight Herdeger, the messenger of Walgund, 
stood before Hugdietrich and asked him wherefore he had come 
into the land. Then Hugdietrich told the tale which Berchtung 
had devised; and Herdeger hastened back to his master with the 
answer. ‘ Of a truth, a fairer and a more royal woman I have 
never seen,’ he said: ‘ greet her then, as it beseems thee, with a 
royal welcome.’ Quickly Walgund went forth from his halls to 
welcome the noble lady; but when he reached the tent, Hugdie¬ 
trich knelt at his feet. ‘ Here let me tarry for a while,’ he said; 
‘and well I know that my brother himself shall tliank thee, when 
he learns, as learn he must, that I have done wisely in withstand¬ 
ing his will.’ ‘ Nay, kneel not to me, fair queen,’ said Walgund; 
‘ I am not worthy the honour, but thou with all thy people shalt 
have all that my land may give thee.’ ‘Here must I sojourn 


The Story of HMgdietrich and Hildeburg. 335 

alone/ answered Hugdi«trich, ‘for I have pledged my word to 
Duke Berchtung that all who came with me shall return straight¬ 
way to the Greek land.’ 

So Hugdietrich remained alone, and Walgund led him to his 
castle, where Liebgart the queen welcomed him tenderly, and 
asked him his name. ‘ My name,’ he said, ‘ is Hililegund.’ 
Thenceforth Hildegund dwelt in the queen’s chamber, broider- 
ing with threads of silk and gold the forms of men and birds and 
beasts, of fruits and flowers : and all that she broidered seemed to 
have life upon the canvas. ‘ Of a truth thou sewest deftly,’ said 
Liebgart the queen; ‘thou must teach thine art to two of my 
best handmaidens.’ ‘ Eight gladly ’ said Hildegund : and for six 
months she wrought with them a great work, on which were seen 
the birds of the air, from the nightingale to the eagle, and in one 
part noble knights were chasing the stag, in another .they were 
hunting the boar. ‘ It is a marvellous work,’ said King Walgund, 
as he chanced to see it; ‘ whose hands have wrought it % ’ x\nd 
he marvelled when he knew that the broidering was Hildegimd’s. 
Swiftly sped yet again the maiden’s fingers, and this time she 
broidered a crown for the king, glistening with gold and gems 
like the rays of the sun at noontide. ‘ Now, by my troth, it is a 
right royal gift,’ he said, ‘ but I will not leave thee the con'queror. 
Ask what thou wilt—houses, lands, or people ; all shall be thine.’ 
‘ Shall it be so in very truth ? ’ asked Hildegund. ‘ In very truth 
it shall be, fair maiden,’ answered King Walgund. ‘Then let 
thy child come to me from her tower,’ said Hildegund : ‘ I ask no 
other reward, for I would not abide here longer alone.’ Even so 
did the king as he had pledged his word; and Hildeburg was 
brought from her tower to greet the stranger who had fled from 
Constantinople because of the wrath of Hugdietrich. With 
kindly warmth she raised Hildegund as she sought to kneel before 
her. ‘Nay, thou must be as my sister,’ she said, as she placed 
Hildegund on a seat beside her, and hand in hand the maidens 
looked lovingly at each other, as they quaffed golden wine in 
token of welcome. ‘ Thou must learn her craft, dear child,’ whis¬ 
pered King Walgund in his daughter’s ear: ‘ for my oath must be 
kept, and thou must go back to thy tower with Hildegund.’ 

Hugdietrich’s heart leaped wildly with joy, as the warder shut 
the two maidens within the tower, for none might come near 
them, and their food was passed into them from a window. But 
the days wore on, and the weeks, and the secret was hidden still; 
and at last Hildegund’s cheek grew pale and her eyes grew dim, 
because the longing of love tormented her as with hunger. ‘ Dear 


33 ^ Popidar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

friend, what saddens thee?’ asked Hildeburg; ‘hide not aught 
from me.’ ‘ Then betray me not, said Hildegund. ‘ I am Hug- 
dietrich the king of Constantinople. Much toil have I gone 
through for thy sake, fair maiden, and far more yet am I ready to 
endure: but my wife thou must be, and at Constantinople thou 
must sit by my side, my crowned queen.’ 

The heart of Hildeburg beat quickly with joy and fear. ‘ If 
my father knows this, we die,’ she said. ‘ But he needs not to 
know it,’ answered Hugdietrich. So they abode on together, and 
the days and weeks wore on joyously, until Hildeburg said, ‘ I 
fear me the happy time is coming to an end for us both. I am a 
mother; and as we cannot flee away, the doom must come upon 
us.’ ‘ Nay, sweet love, wherefore should it come ? Our life is in 
the hands of God; and He who has given thee to me will guard 
and bless us.’ 

When, next, the Queen Liebgart came to see her child, they 
went together to the battlements of the tower, and thence on the 
plain they saw the white tents of a great army. ‘I know them well,’ 
said Hildegund; ‘they are the people of my land, and Duke 
Berchtung has come to tell me that my brother is no longer wroth 
with me, and to take me away.’ ‘ Say not so, dear friend,’ 
answered Hildeburg, ‘ the joy of my life is gone, if thou forsakest 
me.’ ‘ Nay rather,’ said Hugdietrich, ‘ thou wouldest rejoice if 
after so long an exile thy friends came to take thee home.’ So 
spake they while the queen was nigh ; but in the night, when 
none else was near, Hugdietrich spake with his love, and bade her 
give good heed to his words. ‘ Let the watchman and the Avarder 
take our child to the church, and see it be baptised. If it be a 
boy, let him be named Dietrich; if it be a daughter, let them give 
it what name thou mayest choose; and yet more, so soon as thou 
canst, come thou with the warder and the watchman, with the 
nurse and the child, to the Greek land, and all shall be well.’ 

Then, hurrying aAvay to the warder, Hildegund besought his 
aid in a weighty matter. ‘ Only give me thy troth that thou wilt 
guard the secret well.’ ‘ Maiden, it shall never pass my lips,’ said 
the warder. But when he received the charge about the babe, he 
wondered much and said, ‘ What wouldest thou say, maiden ? 
How can this be when I have so kept guard that no man has ever 
come near this tower ? If King Walgund knew this he would 
hang me on these battlements before an hour could go by.’ 
‘ Nevertheless, it is as I say,’ said Hildegund. ‘ I am Hugdietrich 
the king of Constantinople, and to me Hildeburg has given her 
love. This is the secret Avhich thou must keep; and when thou 


The Story of Hugdietrich and Hildeburg, 337 

comest to the Greek land, bringing with thee Hildeburg and her 
child, I will give thee a thousand golden marks with goodly 
honours and broad lands. 

In the morning came the Duke Berchtung, and asked of King 
Walgund, when he rode forth to meet him, ‘Where is the princess 
whom I brought to thee from the Greek land ? Her brother is 
wroth with her no more, and I am come to take her home.’ ‘She 
is with my child Hildeburg,’ answered Walgund ; and sorely did 
Hildeburg’s heart misgive her when the hour for parting with 
Hugdietrich had come. But as Berchtung took Hugdietrich in 
his arms in the joy of welcome, Hugdietrich whispered in his ear, 

‘ Dear friend, I have wooed and won the maiden ; and now leave 
me not here, for if I tarry longer we are both doomed.’ Then 
said Walgund, ‘ Abide with us yet, Hildegund, and broad lands 
will I give thee, with knights and maidens and all that thou 
mayest desire.’ ‘ It may not be,’ said Hildegund ; ‘ my brother 
is no longer wroth with me. I pray thee, let me go home.’ And 
taking from his hand a golden ring, he placed it on Hildeburg’s 
finger, and said, ‘ Wear this for my sake, and be true to me 
always.’ In his turn Walgund bade his men bring a beautiful 
robe, red with gold, and besought Hildegund to wear it for his 
sake. So Hugdietrich departed to his own land, and there he 
dwelt as days and weeks went on, and the longing for Hildeburg 
pressed on him more and more. 

In the meanwhile Hildeburg lay within her lonely tower, and 
there her child was born; and between his shoulders she saw a 
red crosslet, by which she must know him evermore. But no long 
time after this. Queen Liebgart came to talk with her child ; and 
the warder said to Hildeburg, ‘ Thy mother is come. What are 
we to do with thy child 1 If the queen knew of its birth our 
hours on earth would be numbered. Where may we hide him 1 ’ 
‘ Nay, it is for thee to give counsel,’ said Hildeburg. ‘Well, then, 
I see a way,’ he said ; ‘ we will let him down by a rope over the 
wall, so that he may lie safely among the bushes.’ 

Presently came Liebgart the queen : and when she saw Hilde- 
burg lying pale and death-like on the bed, and asked her what 
ailed her, the maiden said, ‘ I scarcely know. I know only that 
I was well-nigh dead, and that now my life is come back to me.’ 
Gently did Liebgart tend her, giving her all nourishing food and 
drink ; but for all her mother’s kindness the maiden lay fretting 
on her bed, for she yearned to know where her child might be. 
So soon as the queen was gone, Hildeburg rose up and hastened 
to the moat below the tower, and everywhere she sought but no- 

y 


33^ Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

wliere could she find the child, for a wolf had passed by the 
bushes where the babe lay and had carried it away to her lair. 
The warder peered through thicket and brake, but he pried about 
in vain : and when the maiden came to him pale as the dead for 
very fear and asked him for her child, he looked at her face and 
thought within himself, ‘ Surely she will die if I tell her that I 
know not where he is.' So he said, ‘ He is well, lady : we have 
baptised the babe, and he lies in the watchman’s house.' 

King Walgund was hunting in the castle woods, and spying 
the wolf which had borne the child away, he chased the beast 
to its lair, but the huntsmen had a heavy task before they could 
jnerce through the thicket where the wolf and her whelps were 
hidden. When at last they got to the den, there lay the babe, 
and one of the huntsmen hurried with it to the king. ‘ A fairer 
child have I never seen,’ he said : and all cried, ‘ It is but newly 
born.’ Then the king bade them search the wood and see if 
they could find the mother, if perchance the wolf had not torn 
her: but no one could they see; and taking the babe in his 
arms, for to none else would he yield it, Walgund hastened to 
Salneck, and hurrying into Liebgart’s chamber he cried, ‘See 
here the child which I have found in a wolf’s lair: it is but 
newly born and has not yet been baptised.’ So they bare the 
child to the priests, and named him Dietrich; but men called 
him Wolfdietrich because he had been found in the wolf’s den. 

When next Queen Liebgart went to the tower, she told to 
Hildeburg the story of the babe and the wolf, and Hildeburg’s 
heart beat wildly as she asked, ‘ Mother, whose child may it bel’ 
‘Nay, I know not,’ said the queen. Then as soon as she was 
left alone, the maiden hastened to the warder; ‘ TeU me truly, 
friend, how fares my child V ‘It fares well,’ said the warder: 
but Hildeburg felt a strange fear, and she besought him for the 
truth’s sake to tell her where the babe might be. Then said the 
warder, ‘ Forgive me, dear lady: but I spake for thy good, lest 
the grief of the tidings might take away thy life. Everywhere 
I sought for the babe, but nowhere could I find it.’ Then 
Hildeburg’s grief burst out in a great cry. ‘ Ah me, that ever 
I was born: cursed be the hour in which I lost my babe, and 
my lord Hugdietrich.’ ‘ Weep not thus, dear lady,’ said the 
warder, for no longer could he bear to look upon her agony: 
‘ weep not. Thy father has found the babe : but I feared to 
tell thee, lest his wrath should be kindled against thee. If thou 
doubtest my word now, pray thy mother the queen to bring the 
child that thou mayest see it, and then shalt tlioii know that my 
words are true.’ 


The Story of Hugdietrich and Hildehurg. 339 

Then went the maiden to her mother and said, * Let me see 
tliis child which has come from the wolf’s den.’ But the queen 
answered, ‘ So dear is it to thy father that he will scarce let it 
be out of his sight: nevertheless to-morrow in the morning the 
nurse shall bring it to thee.’ And even so it came to pass that 
when the morning came and the nurse bare the child to the 
tower, Hildeburg looked between its shoulders and there lay the 
mark of the rosy cross, and the maiden clasped the babe to her 
breast. Presently she sat by Liebgart’s side, and said gently, 
‘ May I tell thee, mother, of the things which have befallen meP 
‘ Surely mayest thou, my child,’ said the queen : ‘ thy words are 
sacred in my keeping.’ ‘Mother,’ answered Hildeburg, ‘the 
child is mine;’ and when she told how the child had been 
placed in the thicket and how the wolf had borne it away, 
Liebgart asked, ‘ Daughter, who is the father of. thy babe 1 ’ 
‘ That can I tell thee, mother,’ said Hildeburg eagerly: ‘ thou 
knowest the fair Hildegund who came from Constantinople and 
taught me so deftly to broider. That maiden was Hugdietrich, 
the Greek king. He is the father of my child; and now, mother, 
take it for the best, for otherwise than it is, it may not be. 
Only give me thy counsel, how I may fare hence into the Greek 
land.’ 

That night, as Liebgart talked with Walgund, she asked him, 
‘ What should a man do with that which may not be undone!’ 
‘ That must he leave alone,’ said the king, ‘ if he be wise.’ ‘ Is 
thy word sure! ’ asked Liebgart. ‘ Yea,’ said Walgund ; ‘ thou 
knowest that I never break it.’ ‘ Dear lord,’ said Liebgart, ‘the 
babe whom thou didst save from the wolf’s den is Hildeburg’s 
child : and I can tell thee who is his father. The maiden Hilde¬ 
gund whom thou didst send to teach our daughter to broider is 
Hugdietrich, the king of the Greeks; and now thou must take 
it,for the best, for otherwise than it is, it may not be. Only bid 
Hugdietrich come hither, and gold and lands shall he have for 
his wife’s dower.’ 

Stoutly King Walgund struggled with his wrath; and early 
in the morning he hastened to the tower. ‘ Tell me, warder,’ 
said the king, ‘who is the father of my daughter’s babe!’ 
‘ This only do I know,’ answered the warder; ‘ thy daughter 
took me by the hand one day, and leading me to a window told 
me that the maiden Hildegund was the Kaiser Hugdietrich. 
And where then is my guilt, when thou didst shut a man with 
thy child in the tower! ’ ‘ Thou art not guilty, good friend,’ 

said King Walgund. Then answered the warder, ‘ Where is 


3 ^ 0 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

now the oath which thou didst swear never to give thy child 
in marriage ? The maiden hath found a lord herself, and must 
not the oath be put aside 1’ Then cried all, ‘ Yea, the oath is 
gone \ and now send for Kaiser Dietrich that he may come to 
his bride and his child.’ ‘ Be it so,’ said Walgund; and right 
joyfully his messengers rode presently away to go to the Greek 
land, and bare to Hugdietrich the bidding of the king. Then 
they told him all that had befallen, and how his child had been 
called Wolfdietrich because he had been found in the wolf’s lair. 
And straightway the Kaiser sent throughout all the land to 
summon his knights; and with two thousand warriors he took 
the by-ways to Salneck. On the eighteenth day they saw its 
towers, and Walgund came forth to welcome his guest. * The 
warder hath spoken truly,’ said Hugdietrich; ‘ thou wouldest 
suffer no man to wed thy child : what could I do but win her 
by craft 1 ’ Glad at heart was Hugdietrich, when he saw his 
child in the nurse’s arms, and took it up and kissed it: and right 
glad was he when Hildeburg came forth with her mother, and 
Hugdietrich kissed away the memory of all her sorrow. 

Many a day and many a night there was joy and feasting in 
the halls of King Walgund, and then Hildeburg and her child 
went forth with Hugdietrich to go to Constantinople. 


©uinm 


L HAGEN AND THE GRIFFINS. 

SiGEBAND, King of Ireland, had an only son named Hagen, who 
grew up so hardy that at seven years of age he counted it shame 
to abide any longer among women-folk and children, and chose 
rather to handle a sword and spear with his father’s men. And 
for all his fingers were so small that they could scarce close 
round a weapon, his strength and skill were wonderful, and few 
had ever seen the like of his sword-play. v 

One day King Sigeband made a feast and tournament; and 
after the jousting and the games there came a minstrel into the 
hall and harped so sweetly on his harp that all the lords and 
ladies ran thither to hear. Queen Uta sat there beside the 
king; and so wondrously sweet was the song that the warders 
of the castle abandoned their watch, and all the king’s servants, 
down to the very scullions, left their work and came stealing in 
to listen to the lay. 

The boy Hagan was left alone in the garden. And suddenly 
there was a terrible noise in the air: a mighty griffin swooped 
from the sky and came crashing down through the tree-branches, 
seized the boy in his great talons, and soared with him up into 
the air. Hagen’s cries broke in upon the minstrelsy; the king 
and queen ran out from the hall, and looking up beheld their 
son in the griffin’s claws. But while they yet stood watching, 
the griflSn bore the boy high up among the clouds, and dwindled 
from their sight. Fast flew the monster, quicker than the wind; 
and Hagen, terror-stricken, looked down into the great deep 
beneath him. He saw the land slip by and his home grow far 
and faint; then they passed the coast; then on for a hundred 
miles aloft above the cold gray sea to a huge pile of bouldered 
rocks which dashed to spray the leaping waves that always 
roared upon them. The griffin wheeled above a pinnacle of the 
cliff, then hurtled swiftly down upon his nest and dropped his 



342 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

prey among his brood ; then without lighting, skimmed the cliffs 
and soared again, and fled away to sea. Straightway the brood 
of griffins began fighting for the morsel of prey; for Hagen was 
in sooth no more than a morsel for the smallest of them. But 
one of the wisest of the young monsters, whilst the rest were 
tearing each other with beak and talon, took up the boy in his 
claws and flew off with him to a tree hard by. Howbeit the 
bough whereon he perched brake with his weight, so that Hagen 
slipped from the griffin’s claws, and tumbled to the ground. 
The boy scrambled to his feet and crept quickly away through 
the crannies of the rocks and hid himself. As soon as he was 
got over his fright and had begun to look about, he saw that 
he was come into a great cleft between two sweating rock sides, 
where of old the cliff had been rent asunder from fcneath, and 
left a thread of sky above. But all below was like a garden for 
fern and creeping green. And as he walked along a winding 
pathway there, he came upon three lovely maidens who, like 
him, had been stolen away from home in childhood by the 
griffins, though by what means they had been delivered from 
death, save only by God’s mercy, no man knows. 

When these maidens saw Hagen, they ran in mortal fear and 
hid themselves in the cavern, thinking him some strange creature 
come to do them harm. But Hagen called aloud and besought 
them for pity’s sake to give him food, for he was famished. So 
divining from his manner and speech that he must be one of their 
own kind, the maidens came out from their concealment and 
gave him both meat and drink, whilst he recounted the manner 
of his deliverance. Then were they glad at finding that the boy 
was of mortal race as they were, and they took care of him. 
And Hagen abode with them a long time, till from a boy he 
grew a youth, tall and straight and large of limb. 

Ten years went by, and all that while no other living soul came 
near the island, till one day a great storm arose. The rocks 
shook with the thunder of the sea, as the waves beat on them and 
burst in foam upon the steepest cliff tops. And a ship that 
chanced to pass that way was driven from its course, whirled up 
a great green sea-hill, and shattered like a potsherd on the rocks. 
Afterward, when the fury of the storm was spent, the sea yet all 
a-work with foam and heaving at ebb-tide, Hagen climbed down 
the cliffs, and peering about, saw the sand strewn with corpses, 
and how ever and anon the griffins came and carried them off to 
feed their brood. He espied how one of the bodies was the corpse 
of a knight clad in armour, having a sword belted at the waist ; 


343 


The Gtcdru7i Lay. 

and beside it there lay a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Then 
watching till the griffins were gone off again with their prey, he 
made haste and came down, stript off the knight’s armour and 
put it on, girt on the sword and took the bow in hand. Just 
then one of the griffins came hovering overhead, and Hagen let 
fly a shaft at him, but it bounded off the creature’s hide, and fell 
harmless to the ground. The griffin darted on the youth, but he 
avoided its clutdi, and turning drew his sword and with one 
blow smote off a wing of the monster; and when the griffin 
sought to tear him with his talons, Hagen cut off his paws, and 
soon after slew him. Ere while came the other griffin with all the 
brood, and these all beset Hagen behind and before and on all sides, 
insomuch that the maidens, who watched from the cliff, gave him 
up for lost. But his victory over the first griffin made him the 
more valiant, and he dealt so many blows that his sword could 
not be seen, but only a flash and glitter that played round about 
him like lightning; and before long he laid every one of the 
griffins dead upon the sand. 

Hagen became so skilful with the bow that he could shoot a 
bird upon the wing, or a fish as it darted in the sea. Once as he 
rambled over the island he slew an unknown monster that breathed 
fire and smoke when it came ravening at him from a gloomy 
cavern. And Hagen having by chance tasted of the creature’s 
blood felt it strengthen him. So he drank his fill thereof, and it 
entered into his sinews and gave him thenceforward the strength 
of twelve strong men ; moreover his voice grew loud and terrible, 
so that he could make, himself heard above the roar of the surf 
upon the rocks. Soon after, Hagan met a lion in the wood, and 
he lifted up his voice and shouted at him, and the lion fled in 
terror at the noise. But Hagen following, caught the lion alive 
with his hands, muzzled him, and bound up his claws with strips 
of bark. Then he took the beast upon his shoulders and carried 
him home to the cavern to make sport for the maidens. 

Moreover, since Hagen had gotten the sword, he made a fire 
by striking sparks from the rock. Heretofore they had lived on 
herbs and roots, having no means of taking wild-fowl or flesh, or 
of cooking it when taken; but now they had both fish, flesh, and 
fowl in plenty, which Hagen killed with his bow, and a fire to 
dress it withal. And the maidens grew exceeding comely and 
well-favoured on their better fare. They also learned to replace 
their worn-out garments with kirtles woven cunningly, after the 
manner of linen, from threads drawn from the soft inner bark of 
trees. 


344 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Month after month they looked and longed to see a ship. No 
ship came. They built a watch-fire on the highest peak, and kept 
it burning night and day through storm and sunshine ; but far as 
one could look there was nothing save the round sea and the 
drooping clouds, the drooping clouds and the round heaving sea. 
No ship came. 

One hot, bright summer day, the throbbing blue sea lay white- 
fringed on the yellow sands, murmuring slumbrously. The cliffs 
quivered in the haze of the sun. The maidens looked and saw a 
sail; and they ran and told Hagen ; and they were all glad, for 
they saw the ship steer towards them. 

It was a certain Yarl that sailed with his men in search of 
booty, and he saw the island and made for it; but when he per¬ 
ceived three maidens on the beach clad in strange attire, he feared 
to land, thinking them sea-women, till Hagen lifted up his mighty 
voice and told who and what they were, and asked that seemly 
garments for them might be sent ashore. Thereupon the Yarl 
chose out the best raiment to be found in the ship, and rowed 
therewith to land in a little boat with twelve of his men. And 
after the maidens had come back from behind a thicket whither 
they went to clothe themselves, he marvelled at their beauty, and 
persuaded them to go on board the ship with Hagen. There he 
set meat before them, and made a feast of the best that he had. 
And after that the Yarl would know concerning their history. 
So the eldest of the maidens told him that she was an Indian 
princess who had been carried off by the griffin; the second said 
that she was the daughter of the King of Portugal; and the third, 
that she was a noble lady of Ireland. But, when they told him 
who Hagen was, and how he had slain the griffins, the Yarl’s 
heart sank within him ; for Sigeband King of Ireland, Hagen’s 
father, was an enemy of his, and he bethought him straightway 
to avenge himself upon the son, yet feared the might of the man 
who had slain the griffins and their brood. 

Hagen perceived the Yarl whispering with his men and pre¬ 
sently caught them trying to steal away his weapons. Thereat 
being angered, he asked fiercely what was meant. And the Yarl 
spake, saying, ‘ I have suffered great and grievous wrongs at the 
hands of King Sigeband and his knights, and now, since thou 
art his son, thou shalt make amends to me.’ Hagen answered : 
‘ If this be true, it is no fault of mine. Nevertheless, steer thou 
for Ireland with me, and I trow that justice shall be done for any 
wrong that thou hast suffered.’ The Yarl said, ‘A man is a fool 
to go and seek justice with his enemy in his hand,’ Therewith 


345 


The Gudrun Lay. 

he called to his men to seize Hagen and bind him. But Hagen 
drew his sword and cut down every one that came against him. 
He slew all the mass that fought him, until the few left alive 
were glad to take refuge in the far end of the ship, whence they 
dared not for their lives come forth. Then Hagen fell upon the 
Yarl, and him he would have slain likewise, but that the maidens 
prayed hard for his life. So he bound him hand and foot with 
sail cord, and flung him in the bottom of the ship. 

After this Hagen cried to the mariners, ‘ Come forth, you dogs! 
Come, bend to the oars ! And if the steersman be alive, let him 
now steer for Ireland.’ Never a man disobeyed him. They sat 
them down at the oarbanks and the steersman steered ; and on 
the seventeenth day they sighted the green shores of Ireland; 
but the mariners feared greatly to come to land, lest King Sige- 
band should put them all to death. Then Hagen said, ‘ Fear 
not; for I will send you all to bear the message to my father 
that his son has come. Be of good cheer ; kings do not slay the 
bearers of glad tidings.’ 

When the messengers came to King Sigeband he would not 
believe them, nor would he even let his knights go down to the 
sea-beach to find if the tidings were true; for he deemed it an 
idle tale that his son could be yet alive after being carried away 
by a ravenous monster of the air so many years ago. But the 
mariners went to Queen Uta and told her ; and she believed, and 
went straightway to the ship and welcomed Hagen, and brought 
him to his father. And even then King Sigeband could scarce 
for joy believe that it was his very own son. 

After this, Hagen released the Yarl from his bonds, and finding 
that he had been unjustly treated caused restitution to be made 
to him in full for all his losses, and made peace with him. Then 
Hagen took to wife the Indian princess, and after King Sigeband’s 
death, Hagen reigned in his stead and became onet)f the mightiest 
kings of the earth. And he made noble ladies of the two other 
maidens whom he brought with him out of captivity, and they 
wedded two of his dukes. 



34 ^ Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 


II. HILDA’S WOOING. 

When Hettel, the young king of Denmark, but newly crowned, 
was minded to take him a wife, he sent and gathered together his 
high vassals and lieges to his palace in Hegelingen to give him 
counsel. And Morung of Nifland said to the king: ‘ There is 
one maiden that for comeliness surpasseth all others in the world : 
that is Hilda, daughter of wild Hagen King of Ireland; and she 
is peerless.’ ‘ That may be so,’ answered the king, ‘ but Hagen is 
waxed so proud that there is no dealing with him by fair words; 
and many kings and yarls which sought to carry her off by 
strength of arm now sleep the sword-sleep because of her.’ Then 
spake' the sweet-voiced Horant: ‘ Full well I know the maiden. 
She is radiant as the soft new snow beneath the dawn. Stern is 
her father, and cruel as the north wind that tears the clouds and 
breaks the sea, and shakes the pines in his fists. Wlierefore if 
the king must send a messenger, let him not choose me.’ Frute 
spake also : ‘ Neither am I fain to go upon this errand. But let 
the king send and summon Yarl Wate of Sturmen ; he is more 
reckless than any man, and heedeth no living thing.’ 

But when Yarl Wate was come before the king, and understood 
what was required of him, he was but ill-pleased, and said : ‘ I 
ween Horant and Frute to have counselled thee in this, and to 
have done in no friendly wise toward me. Howbeit I am not the 
man to pick an enterprise that hath no peril in it. I will go. 
But since Horant and Frute esteem my life so lightly, they shall 
go likewise.’ Then Yrolt of Ortland and Morung said : ‘ It is 
well-spoken; and inasmuch as it behoveth none to hang back 
when brave men take their lives in their hands, we also will go 
with them.' 

So the king made ready a great ship of cypress-wood, in fashion 
like a dragon. It was all aglow with golden scales ; the anchor 
was of silver, and the steering paddle overlaid with gold. Within 
he furnished it abundantly with victual for the voyage, with 
armour and raiment, and presents of great price. Then Yarl 
Wate and Morung, Horant and Frute and Yrolt, entered into the 
ship with seven hundred of their men. They drew aloft the 
embroidered sail; a fair wind arose and bore them out of harbour. 
For many days they tilled the barren sea-fields, until weary of 
sea-toil they saw the welcome land, and steered in for Castle 
Balian, where Hagen the king kept court. 

Being come to shore, Horant and Yrolt took precious jewels in 


The Gudrun Lay, 347 

their hands worth many thousand marks, and leaving their men 
hidden in the ship, came to King Hagen, saying, ‘ Behold we have 
voyaged from a far country where we have heard of thy fame, and 
we pray thee take these presents at our hands.’ Hagen looked at 
the jewels and marvelled at their great worth. He said, ‘ What 
kings are ye, and whence have you come with all this treasure V 
Horant answered, saying, ‘ Banished folk are we. Hast thou not 
heard of Hettel, who is king in Hegelingen, and of his might and 
majesty, of the battles he has fought and the riches he has 
gathered together ] He despiseth such as we, and being well 
befriended careth nothing for his men. Wherefore a few of us, 
weary of his overbearing ways, have left him seeking service.’ 
Then said Hagen, ‘ Ye shall abide with me and he commanded 
to make ready lodgings for them in the city. 

But Horant and Yrolt gave gold away so lavishly to all within 
the city that the people said, ‘ Of a truth these must be the richest 
kings of the earth.’ And the fair Hilda hearing of it desired 
greatly to see these strangers ; wherefore her father bade them to 
a feast. The Danish knights came at his bidding, arrayed most 
sumptuously. And the feast being over, and the wine outpoured, 
the queen and Hilda left the table, desiring that the guests might 
be brought to them in the inner chamber. First Yarl Wate went 
in, a huge and burly man, with a great rough beard and brawny 
hands. But when the queen bade him sit betwixt her and the 
princess he blushed and stammered, and then blundered shame¬ 
faced to the seat. ‘ Thou art strangely ill at ease in company of 
ladies,’ said the queen. ‘ Aye mistress,’ said Yarl Wate, ‘ I am 
not over smooth of tongue' I am not skilled to lisp about the 
weather. What shall 1 say 1 This seat is soft enough. I never 
mind me to have sat so soft before, nor to have wrought so hard 
in doing it. By my life, good ladies ! ’ he cried upstarting, ‘ a 
good day’s battle with a brisk enemy never wearied me so much, 
or made me deem myself so great a fool.’ Hilda and her mother 
laughed pleasantly at his bluff behaviour, and sought to put him 
at his ease ; but Wate would have no more ; he strode off to the 
hall among the king and his men, and in an hour or so became 
himself again. For the king won on him. Hagen’s big voice, 
his battle knowledge, and his love of fight, opened Yarl Wate’s 
heart, and the two were soon made friends. But for the women, 
there was none in their esteem like the sweet-voiced Horant. He 
was fair to look upon as a woman, yet had no lack of courage in 
the battle-time. His wit was quick; and when he talked his face 
was in a glow at sight of the strange pictures in his mind, whereby 


34 ^ Popiila 7 '' Roinances of the Middle Ages. 

ho likened things to one another in curious sort, so that all which 
heard him wondered and were glad. 

Now Hagen spake much with Wate concerning sword-play, and 
the mystery thereof. So presently Yarl Wate besought the king 
to appoint him a master of fence to teach him a little of it, because 
fencing after their manner was a thing in which he was little 
learned. Then King Hagen sent for the best fence-master that 
he had, and set him to teach Yarl Wate the rules of sword-play. 
But quickly losing patience at the long list of early rules which 
the fence-master laid down, Hagen caught the foil from out his 
hands crying, ‘ Away with you! Why all this stuff ? In four 
strokes I will teach this man to use a sword.’ So the king fell to 
with Wate, whom, however, he very soon found an exceeding 
skilful master of fence. Thereat being somewhat angry, he struck 
in fiercely; and they both carried on the sport till the buttons 
flew off the foils; yet neither gat the better of the other. Then 
Hagen throwing down his foil cried, ‘ In sooth, never saw I youth 
learn so quickly.’ And Yrolt said, ‘ There is very little wherein 
the serving-men of our lord’s country are not already learned.’ 

So as Yarl Wate and his fellows abode continually at the king’s 
court and feasted with him every day, it befell once on a time, 
when night was past and the day had begun to dawn, that Horant 
arose and tuned his voice to a song. The birds, waking in the 
hedges, had begun to sing, but hearing music sweeter than theirs, 
they held their peace. Ever higher and sweeter Horant lifted his 
song till it rang about the palace; and all the sleepers dreamed 
of Baldur and his home in Ganzblick in the sky. Soon they 
woke; nor were they sorry to lose their dreams at hearing Horant’s 
song. Hagen heard it and rose up from his bed. Hilda and her 
maidens heard it, and arose. Men and women came thronging to 
thank the singer; but when they came the song was done, Yet 
none the more would the birds begin their lays; they had lost 
their notes from wonder. Then Hilda besought her father that 
by any means he should constrain Horant to sing again. And 
Hagen being no less crazed with the song, recked not for aught 
else, and he promised the singer a thousand pounds of gold by 
weight if he would sing again at eve. 

At evening Horant sang. The people filled the hall and flocked 
about the castle for a great space. The sick came thither and 
remembered their pains no more. The beasts in the forest and 
the cattle in the fields left their food; the worms forgat to go in 
the grass, and the fishes left swimming in the sea. And when 
the song was done and the folk went their ways, they heard the 


The Gudrun Lay, 349 

minster choirs and the chiming of the bells, but took no more 
pleasure in them. 

Hilda sent twelve purses of gold to Horant, intreating him to 
come and sing to her in her chamber. The singer came and sang 
the song of Amile, the like' whereof no man has ever heard save 
on the wild flute. No gold was ever so good. The maiden laid 
her hand within the singer’s and bade him choose whatever Jje 
listed for a song-gift. He said, ‘ I pray thee give me but the 
girdle from thy waist, that I may take it to my master.’ She 
asked, ^Who is thy master? ’ He answered, ‘No banished men 
are we, but servants of Hettel, king of Denmark, come to woo 
thee for his bride.’ Then Hilda said, ‘ So thou couldest always 
sing to me at morn and eve, I would not care whose bride I were.’ 
Horant said, ‘Lady, within my master’s courts abide twelve 
minstrels, better far than I; and yet with all the sweetness of 
^ their singing my lord sings best of all.’ And Hilda said, ‘ If that 
be so, I fain would follow thee and be King Hettel’s bride. But 
I know not how. My father will give me to no suitor with his 
goodwill. I would go but I durst not.’ Horant answered her, 
‘ Since thou wouldest, be it ours to dare. We ask no more.’ 

Then Horant and his comrades got ready their ship for sea, and 
afterward they came to Hagan, sajdng, ‘ The time for our depar¬ 
ture draweth nigh, and we must sail to other lands. But before 
we go, we pray you bring the queen and your fair daughter, that 
they may see the treasures which we have within the ship.’ So 
on the next day, after mass. King Hagen came down to the beach, 
with his queen, and the fair Hilda and her maids; with them 
went a thousand good knights of Ireland. The ship was swung 
to a single cable, the anchor aboard, the sail tackle free. Upon 
the sands were spread the Danish treasure chests, filled with 
costly raiment embroidered with gold and jewels. There was a 
crowding round the chests to see; Yarl Wate was there, and 
Frute, and Horant \ and in the crowding Hilda was parted from 
her mother. Hagen and his knights saw nothing for the crowd, 
and the queen forgot her daughter at beholding the glories of the 
raiment. But suddenly they heard a shout, and looking up beheld 
Yarl Wate leap on the bulwarks with fair Hilda in his arms ; the 
next moment Horant and Frute sprang on board with two other 
maidens.. Yrolt smote at the cable with hi^ axe; it parted. The 
sail was hauled aloft, and twenty oars shot out from either side 
to lift the ship along. Hagen and his knights ran quickly down 
into the sea; but the rowers rowed hard, and armed men in the 
ship arose, seven hundred strong, and laid about them. Sho.it 


350 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

was the fight, and soon the vessel reached deep water. Loud 
laughed the Danes to see on the fading shore the angry crowd, the 
weeping queen, and Hagan raging like a madman, up to his waist 
in the sea. 

Fast sped the ship and the wind was fair. The Danes made 
Hegelingen in ten days, and Hettel was wed to Hilda with great 

joy- 

•But while they yet sat at the marriage-feast Hagen’s war-ship 
bore down upon their coast. Quickly the Danes rose from the 
tables, put their armour on, and ran down to the shore. Hagan 
drave his ship upon the sand, and leapt into the water with his 
men. A shower of arrows thick as hail was his greeting. Hettel 
rushed foremost to withstand him. There was fierce fighting 
betwixt the two for a little space; then Hettel fell, sore wounded; 
and over his body Hagen and his knights pressed on and hewed 
their way to land. Fast fell the men, both Danes and Irelanders. 
Then Yarl Wate encountered Hagen ; and the battle-anger fell 
on both the men; they fought like wild beasts of the wood, till, 
Wate being wounded on the head, Hagen’s war-pike brake at the 
next blow he struck. Meantime the battle raged furiously. The 
Irelanders kept their footing, but could not drive back the Danish 
men; the numbers slain on either hand were equal, man for man. 
Then Hettel’s wounds being bound up, the Danish king cried out 
to Hagan, ‘ Of what avail shall it be to you or me to fight this 
battle out 1 For every man of mine that falls a man of thine 
goes down. When it is done there will be an end to Danes and 
Irelanders alike. But if thou must needs prolong the fight, I will 
now meet thee, and if Hilda weeps for a dead husband she shall 
mourn a dead father too.’ Then Hagan cast down his sword, and 
called off his men. And he said to Hettel, ‘ Give me thy hand; 
for in sooth my child has married a brave man ; and had I half a 
score more daughters they should all come to Hegelingen.’ So 
the kings made peace together. And the marriage-feast was all 
begun again, and kept for twelve days in King Hettel’s palace. 
Moreover a wise woman brought forth herbs and roots, and healed 
the warriors of their wounds. And after the feasting, Hagan and 
his men were loaded with gifts, and they entered into their ship 
and departed to Ireland. 



The Gudrun Lay. 


351 


III. gudrun’s lovers. 

Kings have not always the fairest children ; but Gadriin and her 
brother Ortwine, the children of King Hettel and Queen Hilda, 
were the comeliest in all Denmark. Words fail to tell how fair 
was Gudrun; but they which beheld her beauty felt as though the 
stars had shone upon them. Many came from far countries a-woo- 
ing her, amongst them King Siegfried of the Moorland, with a great 
train bearing rich presents; but King Hettel sent him haughtily 
away. So Siegfried’s anger was kindled against the king of 
Denmark, and he went back raging to his own land. 

Tidings of Gudrun’s beauty came to Hartmuth, the young 
prince of the Normans, son of King Ludwig, and he fell into a 
great love-sickness because of her; and choosing out sixty noble 
knights he arrayed them in the richest mail, and laded them with 
' gold and precious stuffs, and sent them on an embassy to ask her 
in marriage. But King Hettel and his queen spake disdainfully 
to the messengers, and sent them away. So these returned into 
Normandy, and came to their master. And Hartmuth said, ‘Tell 
me truly, is the maiden so fair as men have said 1 ’ And they 
answered him, ‘ Sire, a hundred days we spent upon the journey 
home, and since we left Hing Hettel’s court we have seen strange 
things by sea and land. But we cannot remember them, for 
naught save Gudrun’s image dwells upon our eyes, as when a man 
has looked upon the sun at noon and seen him burn. Then 
Hartmuth sware that he would never rest till he had won this 
maiden’s love; and he took his journey to Denmark that he 
might look upon her. He came as an unknown guest, and Hettel 
gave him stranger’s welcome at his table. When Hartmuth 
beheld Gudrun, he saw that his knights had not told him the 
half of her beauty, and being consumed with love for her, so that 
he could no longer hold his peace, he called one of her maidens 
privily, saying, ‘ Go, tell Gudrun, I am Hartmuth, of Normandy; 
and for love of her I have come over land and sea.’ And when 
Gudrun knew it she pitied Hurtmuth, though she had no mind 
towards him. ‘ Bid him depart quickly,’ she said, ‘ lest my father, 
learning what errand he comes upon, should slay him in his anger.’ 
So Hartmuth went away sorrowing, and in his bitterness thought 
to come back and win the maiden with the edge of the sword; 
yet, loving her too much to force her into wifehood, he forbore. 

Now Herwig, prince of Zealand, came also to Denmark a-wooing 
gf Gudrun, and at the end of many days he spake to King Hettel 


352 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

to give him his daughter to wife. And when King Hettel would 
not, but mocked at his suit, as he had done at the others, Herwig 
said within himself, ‘ This man is wholly puffed up with pride; 
let us see whether of the twain is stronger, he of Denmark or I 
of Zealand;’ and with that meaning in his mind, went straight¬ 
way back to his people, and gathered together his host, and came 
up against King Hettel and besieged him in his Castle Hegelingen. 
VVhen Hettel, King of Denmark, saw Herwig’s standard, and 
knew that he was come to fight for Gudrun, he-said, ‘Truly this 
is a worthy man. Hitherto men have pleaded but with words 
for Gudrun; have babbled and chattered to me as though I were 
a woman, not a warrior. How shall a man defend his wife in 
perilous times like these, unless he shows that he can win her 
with his sword ? I like this fellow; the sword talks a language 
that I can understand. Good sooth, I love him well-nigh as a 
son alreadyand Hettel laced on his ring mail and went out to 
tight him. Long raged the battle on the plain, but Herwig’s 
knights pushed so hard upon the Danish host that they drave 
them back for many a furlong mounded with slain; till being 
hotly pressed against the walls, the Danes turned in panic and 
rushed, a wild disordered rabble, for the castle gates. Furious at 
being borne back by the press, King Hettel brake his way through 
till he encountered Herwig, and then so fierce a battle began that 
both armies paused to see. 

From a window in the castle Gudrun had watched how Herwig 
smote down the stoutest of her father’s knights, and as she watched 
her eye kindled and her cheek flushed at the glory of the man 
who fought for her. But no sooner did she see the deadly com¬ 
bat between her father and Herwig than she seized a shield and 
ran out from the castle and threw herself between the warriors. 
‘Father, for my sake,’ Gudrun said. ‘And you. Sir Herwig, 
prithee answer me. For my sake also will you make the peace T 
And Herwig answered, ‘ If for your sake means all things hence¬ 
forward for your sake, right gladly will I.’ Gudrun looked upon 
the frank, brave face of her warrior, and loved him as he stood 
there on the battle-plain. And she said, ‘ So be it as thou hast 
said.’ Then the warriors laid down their weapons, and King 
Hettel joined their hands, saying, ‘I desire no better man to be 
rny son-in-law.’ And Gudrun said to Herwig, ‘Thee and no 
other will I have to be my mate, and I will dwell with thee all 
the days of my life.’ So plighted they their troth- upon the 
battle-field; and after that a feast was held for many days withiu 
the castle. 


353 


The Gudrun Lay, 

And when the festivity was done, Herwig would have taken 
Gudrun to wife straightway, but her mother. Queen Hilda, said, 
‘ Nay, for her dowry is not yet prepared, and it will take time to 
make ready a wedding-feast fit for a king’s daughter. Is she not 
yours 1 Be content and wait a little; there is no hurry, and 
Gudrun is very young.’ So Herwig was fain to go back to 
Zealand with a heavy heart for company. But lagging months 
make lingering years. 

Tidings came to Siegfried, King of the Moorland, how Gudrun 
had given her troth to Herwig, prince of Zealand, and being 
fiercely wroth thereat he said, ‘ I shall kindle him a marriage- 
torch which shall set his land aflame and make Zealand Fire-land, 
for I will altogether consume it and burn it from the seas.’ So 
he sailed across the sea-ways with twenty wide-breasted ships; 
and he turned loose his host of Moor-men upon Zealand and 
- ravaged it with fire and sword. Herwig and his people fought 
fiercely, but Siegfried drave them back and pushed forward over 
the bodies of many that counted it sweeter to die upon their land 
than to yield it. And at last Siegfried and his host overran all 
the country, save only one strong fortress wherein Herwig and his 
knights were besieged. Howbeit, Herwig contrived to send a 
trusty messenger into Denmark, who came to King Hettel in his 
castle at Hegelingen, and told him of Herwig’s extremity. Then 
King Hettel quickly gathered his warriors together to go and 
help him. And with the king came also Gudrun’s brother, 
Ortwin, bearing his maiden sword, and Yarl Wate his master ; 
there likewise followed Yrolt, Horant, and the greybeard Frute, 
and a host of redoubtable champions. And these all took ship, 
and coming with speed to Zealand, they fought with Siegfried 
and overcame him ; and with the scourge of swords they scourged 
the Moor-men from the land, and burnt their ships, and shut 
Siegfried up within a rocky castle with water round about on 
every hand. Then King Hettel and his army pitched before the 
castle to beleaguer it. And Hettel vowed a vow never to rise up 
from before the walls till Siegfried should yield. 

Now there came certain men into Normandy which spake to 
Hartmuth after this manner; ‘ Behold, Hettel with all his 
doughtiest warriors has left Denmark and besieges Siegfried in a 
castle in Zealand, neither will he stay his hand till Siegfried 
yields; and the fortress is so strong and well victualled that it 
can hold out for a year at least. Wherefore what hinders now 
from falling upon Denmark and gaining Gudrun for your bride?’ 
Hartmuth turned this counsel over in his mind, but liked it not. 

Z 


354 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

He said, ‘ Love hinders. Can the sword make love 1 Will con¬ 
quest make unwilling love more willing?’ But Queen Gerlinda, 
his mother, said to him, * Thou fool: did not Herwig with his 
good sword win her love ? And shall worse fortune follow yours 1 
This is no soft smirking maid to sigh and prate about, but a grand 
war-woman, whose frame is stirred already with the blood of the 
heroes whom she will bear. Go, fight and win her: conquer her 
and she will glory in you; for such women glory more in such 
defeats than men in victory.’ So by these and many other subtle 
speeches being over-persuaded, Hartmuth sailed with his father 
King Ludwig and all his army across the sea-plain till he came 
to the shores of Denmark, and saw shining in the sun the white 
towers of Castle Matalan wherein fair Gudrun and the queen kept 
court. When Hartmuth gat to land he hid his warriors in the 
shelter of a wood, and sent two of his noblest yarls to the castle 
to intreat Gudrun with fair words to give him her love. But 
Gudrun answered; ‘ Go again to Hartmuth and say that I have 
plighted my troth to Herwig, and so long as I live I shall love 
none other.’ When Hartmuth heard these words he was very 
angry, and he blew the trumpet and set his host in array, and 
came up against Castle Matalan and brake down the castle gates 
and put the guards to the sword. In the great hall of the castle 
sat Gudrun, her cheeks white with anger but not with fear. 
Hartmuth bowed himself before her and said, ‘Fair Gudrun, I 
repent me of all, saving only of my love.’ And when for a long 
time she answered him never a word, he besought her to have 
compassion on his love and speak with him. She told him, ‘ I 
am Gudrun, and I change not.’ So being wroth because of her 
steadfastness he no longer hindered his men from pillaging the 
castle. And they took Gudrun and thirty of her maidens and 
carried them off captive to King Ludwig’s ship where Hartmuth 
was, and put out to sea and sailed away. 

Men came to Gudrun’s father and Herwig as they were besieg¬ 
ing Siegfried in his castle in Zealand, and told what had 
happened in Denmark. Then the king’s heart was exceeding 
heavy because of the oath which he sware ; and he bewailed his 
lot, and all his warriors lamented aloud the cruel fate which had 
befallen them. Then spake Yarl Wate, ‘ It is meet for warriors 
to blot out grief with blood, not tears. Come let us now hotly 
beset Siegfried within his fortress, and drive him to make peace. 
So, having kept our vow we shall be free to avenge this greater 
wrong.’ And the king said, ‘ It is well spoken and with one 
accord they made so fierce an assault upon the castle that Sieg 


355 


The Gudrun Lay, 

fried was fain to sally out and fight. The battle endured the 
whole day, and great numbers were slain on either side. At 
nightfall Yrolt came to the castle wall and asked a parley. He 
said, ‘ King Hettel will make peace if Siegfried does him friendly 
homage and holds himself at his command for service.’ Sieg¬ 
fried answered, ‘ War will never conquer us, but peace will save 
a host of lives. Wherefore we are willing.’ Then Siegfried and 
all his knights lifted up their hands and sware to do warlike 
service to King Hettel as their liege ; and so they made the 
peace. And when this was done Hettel opened his heart to 
Siegfried and spake of what had befallen Gudrun. Then Sieg¬ 
fried made friends Avith Herwig and said, ‘ We were foes before 
for Gundrun’s sake, but now for her sake we will make common 
cause against Hartmuth. Had you not burned my ships we 
might have quickly started on our errand.’ Howsoever, it 
chanced that a great company of pilgrims were just then come to 
land, and Hettel and Siegfried seized on their ships and entered 
into them, both they and their men, and put out to sea in search 
of Hartmuth. 

Now Hartmuth and his father were sailing in their war-ships 
bearing Gudrun away into captivity. They ploughed the salt 
sea-fields many days till they came to an island called Wulpen- 
sand. There they landed to rest them from sea-weariness. And 
one day as they looked out seawards they descried a pilgrim fleet 
with great red crosses blazoned on the sails. But as the ships drew 
near, seeing the glitter of helm and shield and bright spear-points 
flashing in the sun, straightway every man seized sAvord and jave¬ 
lin, and put his armour on. Ludwig and Prince Harmuth shouted 
their battle-cry and ranged their host upon the beach. 

King Hettel, with Siegfried his ally, and HerAvig and Ortwin, 
ran their ships upon the sand a bow-shot off the shore, and 
leaped into the sea to fight their way through all the host that 
met them in the water. With cry and shout they roused them¬ 
selves to battle fury. Hettel was fighting for his child, Herwig 
for his bride, and Ortwin for his sister. Fiercely the two hosts 
met; the air grew dark with hurtling spears; the din of war 
rose high above the wave-noise : the sea lapped blood upon the 
shingly beach. Yarl Wate was first ashore; for when King 
Ludwig hurled his mighty spear at him, Wate held his shield 
like a rock ; so the point stuck therein, and scarcely had the 
tough ash shaft been shattered with the quiver of the bloAv, ere 
Wate threAV himself upon King Ludwig, and flung him reeling 
down, and so gat foot on land. The battle lasted through the 


35 ^ Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

day; night fell and the tumult ceased \ yet not because either 
host was vanquished, hut since both were fain to rest. At dawn 
King Hettel and King Ludwig fought a mortal strife, and King 
Hettel gat his death-wound ; but still the old Dane fought on 
until he dropped, and dying called upon his daughter’s name. 
Then raged Yarl Wate about the battle-field, terrible in his fury 
as a wild beast of prey, for he loved his master Hettel. And the 
Normans feared his anger and the vengeance of the Danes. 
Many a Norman champion had been stricken down that day, 
and when night fell they that slept in death on either side out¬ 
numbered the living who lay down to rest. Far upon the plain 
the watch-fires marked the camps of either host. Day brake, and 
a mist lay thick on land and sea. The Danes waited for their 
enemies, and went hither and thither seeking them, but only 
stumbled on the slain. They came to the Norman camp ; the 
watch-fires smouldered still, but no man was by them, for in the 
night the Normans had betaken themselves to their ships and 
had carried off Gudrun and her women and sailed away; and 
the fog covered them from sight. Loud was the clamour of the 
Danes, and fierce the wrath of Yarl Wate as a lion’s robbed of 
prey. ‘ We cannot follow them,’ said Frute bitterly ; ‘ with this 
fair wind they are full ten leagues away, and we are now too 
few to venture on another chase.’ So they made a mound of the 
slain, and buried together friend and foe, earth-covered, on a 
windy ness, and gat them heavy-hearted to their ships, and made 
sail for Denmark. But when they reached Queen Hilda’s castle 
all feared to tell of that which had befallen them. The queen came 
out to greet them and to welcome home her lord the king. And 
when all held their peace, Yarl Wate stood forward, and bravely 
he outspake : ‘ Many years have I eaten of the king’s meat. I 
have served him through field and flood, and how shall 1 lie to 
Hettel’s queen ^ Gudrun is yet a captive. Hettel is slain, and 
with him the most part of our bravest knights are dead in Wul- 
pensand.’ Then the queen covered her face, and went up into her 
chamber to weep. Many a strong knight lifted up his voice and 
wept. But Wate said : ‘ Tears will not bring the dead back, nor 
rescue Gudrun. It is true there are but a handful of us left, but 
let us teach our boys to grow up and hate the Normans, and let 
us train their hands to war, and wait with patience for the reckon¬ 
ing day.’ 

Meanwhile the Norman ships made a fair voyage. And when 
land was sighted. King Ludwig called for Gudrun to show her 
the sun shining upon the green pastures and woodlands of Nor- 


The Gudrun Lay. 357 

mandy. * Behold/ said he, ‘ the land whereof thoii shalt be 
queen.’ Hartmuth stood a little apart to hear how she would 
answer. Gudrun said : ‘ I will never be queen of JSTormandy ; I 
will never be Hartmutl/s wife. How should I wed the son of 
him that slew my father 'I ’ Then said Ludwig, ‘ Choose betwixt 
queen and bond-slave, whether of the twain you list V Gudrun 
answered : ‘ I have no choice, nor any mind for choice. My troth 
I pledged to Herwig, and notliing can ever part me from my troth.* 
Then waxed King Ludwig very wroth, and he caught the 
maiden by her long hair, and. swung her overboard, saying 
liercely, ‘ Death be thy groomsman and the sea thy priest! ’ 
But Hartmuth leaped into the water, and dived down until he 
saw the glitter of her golden hair, upbore her in his arms from 
the depths into the light again, and gave her to her women. And 
Hartmuth was very angry with his father because he had done 
this thing. 

Now Queen Gerlinda had prepared a royal greeting for 
Gudrun, and sought to dazzle her with the splendour of the 
court. Arrayed in richest robes of gold embroidery she rode 
forth on a palfrey from the castle gates, with all the noblest 
knights of Normandy in her train. Beside her rode fair Ortrun, 
Hartmuth’s sister, w’hose simple heart felt woman’s tenderness 
toward a prisoner for love’s sake. And when Ortrun saw 
Gudrun she ran and took her hand and kissed her. Never a 
word spake either woman, but the two were friends hencefor¬ 
ward from that hour. Then with haughty courtesy the Queen 
Gerlinda stooped to kiss the captive, but Gudrun turned her 
reddened cheek away in sudden pride, saying, ‘ Gerlinda’s kisses 
would lie harder on me than my wrongs.’ Gerlinda made as 
though she heard not, but she kept that saying in her heart. 
With feasting and dance, with music and with knightly games, 
Hartmuth sought to beguile Gudrun of her sorrows; but she had 
no mind for beguilement, neither would she hearken to his 
wooing. And in those days Gudrun knew no comfort save when 
she might lay her head on Ortrun’s gentle breast, and there weep 
out the griefs which she bore dry-eyed before the rest. Ortrun 
would soothe and hush the stronger woman as a mother lulls her 
nursling from its pain. 

Months passed and Hartmuth longed for Gudrun’s love, yet 
he refrained from importunity, because her peace was dear to 
him. So he watched and waited, thinking she might change, 
and lived on hope that each day would bring some word or look 
in earnest of a change. And when none came, his heart grew 


35 ^ Popidar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

sick from hope deferred. His very love grew cruel from its 
fierceness and its hopelessness ; and he hearkened to his mother’s 
counsel. ‘ Leave her to me; you are too soft a wooer for this 
haughty girl.’ So spake Gerlinda; and a little while after, when 
Hartmuth was by, she talked with Gudrun on this wise : ‘ Why 
not wed my son % Will your pride never bend, that you must 
tempt me on to break it % Is Hartmuth not a comely man, and 
Prince of IS^ormandy*? Know you not that you shall sit upon 
my throne and reign with him 1 Why would you madden me % ’ 
Gudrun answered: ‘You know that I am troth-plighted. Why 
weary me ? If I were not, I would not wed your son. The 
blood of my kindred is upon his hands. Your palace is my 
dungeon ; your crown a golden fetter red with my father’s blood. 
How shall I do this wickedness, and break my troth, and break 
my heart, and bring disgrace upon my kinsfolk ? ’ Loftily she 
left them, the red anger mounting to her cheek. Then said 
Hartmuth bitterly, ‘ Always the same: scorn and hard words. 
Mother, I will forget this woman; I will go away; and when 
far off, will feed my memory only with her unkindness.’ Then, 
since the violence of his unrequited love was chilled, his heart 
became, a thought more tender to her womanhood, and he said : 
‘Do with her as you will when I am gone; only treat her kindly, 
as becometh a king’s daughter, remembering that she has suffered 
many things already because of us.’ 

• So Hartmuth set out in quest of knightly adventures. But 
no sooner was he gone than Queen Gerlinda came to Gudrun, 
saying, ‘ Now, you despiser of the love of a prince and the kisses 
of a queen, I shall shortly break your stubborn will. You, who 
count Ludwig’s throne too low to satisfy your pride—how say 
you if I send you down among the scullions to scour and scrub 
with base-born drudges'?’ But though Gudrun’s cheek whitened, 
she answered straightly, ‘ Do with me as you will; I am in your 
hands; all that you lay upon me that will I strive to bear, but 
nothing shall ever break my troth.’ Then the queen took 
Gudrun and stripped off her courtly raiment, and clad her in 
rags, and set her to drudge in the kitchen. With her also her 
thirty maidens, who were all dukes’ daughters, were made to do 
the like; and they gathered sticks and made the fires, and 
cleaned the pots and kettles, and scrubbed the floors, and did all 
the foulest work in the castle; and if a filthier task could be 
found for one than for another, it was given to Gudrun. And 
their meat was beggars’ fare. Thus for three years toiled Gudrun 
among the scullions, during all which time Ortrun was forbidden 


359 


The Gudrun Lay, 

to go near her; but often Queen Gerlinda would come and mock 
her as she toiled, asking whether she found court life to her 
mind. Yet Gudrun meekly endured, saying only, ‘ A constant 
heart for love’s sake makes malice easy to be borne.’ 

Now when three years were over Hartmuth came back, having 
gained great renown for his valorous exploits in far countries. 
He had never ceased thinking of Gudrun. He remembered not 
her unkindness, but only his love ; and in the tournament and 
the battle her name had been his war-cry. But when he came 
and knew how Gudrun was set to do the work of a bond-slave, 
he was angry and rebuked his mother, saying, ‘ Cruelly have you 
treated the noblest woman in the world; ’ and he spake no more 
at that time to his mother, but went down among the scullions 
to where Gudrun was, and took her hand and made obeisance 
to her as to a queen, and said: ‘ Dear lady, believe me I have 
had neither part nor lot in this. Will you not hear me now 1 
See, I would take you from these noisome tasks and clotlie you 
in richer apparel than ever queen yet wore, and you shall sit 
upon the throne of Normandy. Dear Gudrun, have you not one 
gentle word for me? For your sake I went away, striving to 
forget you, but in vain; for I can love no other woman.’ 
Gudrun said: ‘ These hardships are less hard than your intreaties. 
My troth is given, and my mind can never change.’ Being vexed 
he said : ‘ Did I not seek you over land and sea ? Have I not, 
all these years, dared all things for your sake ? Your very life 
belongs to me who snatched it from the wave; yet you spurn 
me. Is this a fit reward for deeds like these ? ’ Gudrun answered, 

* You snatched me from all that I hold dear—home, kindred, and 
the man for whom alone I would leave both. You brought my 
father to his death. For which of these good deeds should I 
reward you ? ’ Whereat, losing patience, Hartmuth said in a 
rage, ‘ Drudge on among the drudges then! My mother was 
not far wrong if this be still your temper.’ So he left her there 
to slave. But do what he might Hartmuth could not help loving 
Gudrun, and after a while he went to his sister Ortrun, saying, 
‘Dear sister, intercede for me with Gudrun. She has borne 
much and long : wherefore do you take her up out of the kitchen 
and clothe her in seemly raiment, and let her dwell with you in 
your bower. Comfort her, and make amends for what she has 
suffered, and seek to turn her mind towards me; for if cruelty 
will not soften her heart, perchance kindness may.’ 

At these words Ortrun rejoiced greatly, for she had grieved 
heavily at being separated from Gudrun, and bewailed her cruel 


360 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

lot with many tears. So for a long space henceforth Gudrun 
dwelt with Ortrun, and Ortrun comforted her, and they loved 
each other as sisters. Very sweetly Ortrun prayed Gudrun that 
Hartmuth might find favour in her eyes; for indeed she loved 
her brother and admired him with a sister’s pride, neither could 
she understand how he could be displeasing in the sight of any 
woman. And she pleaded yet the more earnestly, fearing lest 
worse things might be in store for Gudrun if she still turned a 
deaf ear to his suit. But Gudrun always told her that she could 
never break her troth to Herwig. Long after Ortrun knew this, 
she yet contrived delay, and put her brother off, saying, ‘ Wait 
a little; see what another month will do.’ Thus more than a 
year slipped by, till Hartmuth’s mother urging him, he would 
wait no longer. Then once more he intreated Gudrun for his 
love’s sake, to give him hers. She said, ‘ I cannot; it is given.’ 
Hartmuth said, ‘ Bethink you yet again. Herwig without doubt 
is dead or faithless long ago. Wouhl I have left my promised 
bride in a strange land all these years, whilst I might draw a 
sword or fling a spear? Would Herwig if he loved you? Of a 
surety he is a worthless knight or a faithless lover.’ Gudrun 
answered him, ‘ I cannot tell why Herwig comes not. I have 
looked for his deliverance, and hoped till hope has waned to 
wanhope. But whether he has forgotten me or not I keep my 
troth until I die.’ 

Then Hartmuth no longer hindered his mother from wreaking 
all her wicked will upon Gudrun. So Queen Gerlinda clad her 
again in the coarsest weeds, and set her to harder tasks than 
before. She was sent daily to the seashore to wash clothes from 
daybreak till dark, and punished with ill w'ords and blows if the 
full tale of her task was not accomplished. Gudrun murmured 
not, neither for the hard labour, to which she had never before 
been used, nor for the harder sayings which the Queen continu¬ 
ally cast in her teeth. Gudrun set herself so steadfastly to her 
work that before long no woman in the land could wash clothes 
whiter than she. All Gudrun’s maidens remained faithful to her, 
and to their land, save one, Heregard by name, who being be¬ 
guiled by the king’s cup-bearer went away and abode with him, 
and grew hard of heart, and jeered alike at the sorrows and the 
constancy of her mistress. But for the rest, their hearts were 
like to break at seeing the hard tasks which Gudrun did so 
meekly; and the fairest of them all, named Hildeburg, who was 
daughter of a prince, spake openly to the queen of her cruelty. 
Enraged at this, Gerlinda sent Hildeburg also to the seashore to 


The Gudrun Lay. 361 

wash with Gudrun. But this was just what Hildehurg wanted, 
and she rejoiced greatly in her mind at being able to share the 
toils of her mistress. With her pleasant talk she cheered Gud- 
run’s heart and lightened her labour, so that the long weary days 
passed quicker. And though they had to trudge daily through 
the deep snow to their work on the seashore, bearing their heavy 
burdens of linen, Gudrun was greatly comforted by Hildeburg \ 
and she would often stop her work for a moment to put her arms 
round Hildeburg’s neck, saying, whilst the tears stood in her eyes, 
‘God rew^ard thee, Hildeburg, for all thy faithful love.’ And 
Hildeburg would answer with a smile and kiss, 'I liave my 
reward to be with thee.’ 

Time sped with Gudrun at her toils, till since the battle on the 
Wulpensand many a spring had come and gone, and many an 
autumn had yielded up its golden grain. Seedlings of King 
Hettel’s time grew up and blossomed and bare fruit; saplings 
had grown young trees; and Danish boys, trained by Yarl Wate 
in hatred of the Normans, were grown up stalwart men, swift 
javelin-throwers, strong wielders of the sword, with all the mind 
to put their vengeance in their fingers. 

Year by year Queen Hilda had set the smiths of Denmark to 
make javelin-heads, and sword-blades, and ring-mail. These she 
stored up in Hegelingen against the reckoning day; and she 
commanded her shipwrights to build seven great dragon ships of 
war and two and twenty smaller ships to be ready against that 
day. Queen Hilda had long given Gudrun up, thinking in truth 
that Hartmuth had forced her to wed with him. But she wanted 
vengeance for her lord King Hettel; and there was scarce a 
woman in Denmark that did not cry likewise for vengeance for 
a husband or a brother or a son. So all those years mothers 
suckled their babes to war, gave bows and spears for playthings 
to their boys, and trained them to a hardy life, and patiently 
w^aited for the day. 

At last, grey old Yrolt said to the queen, ‘ The day has come.’ 
A glad woman was the queen; and straightway gathered she her 
vassals together, Yarl Wate and Morung and Frute and Horant, 
with all their warriors ; and she sent and fetched Herwig out of 
Zealand. Ortwin was a-rivering with his hawks ’when the 
messengers came to him. Blithely he loosed the jesses from the 
birds, took off their hoods and let them fly, saying, ‘ Now I have 
a better quarry ! ’ 

When all was ready the ships set sail. Many Danish women 
were there to see. Fiercely they rejoiced, because the day had 
conic. 


362 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

Yarl Wate steered first for Wulpensand. And as they drew 
near the island, a storm arose and the winds blew ; and ever there 
came upon the wind a sound of grievous moaning and lamentation 
from the spirits of the slain ; for the dead Danes lay restless in 
their graves. Wherefore as soon as the storm had abated, the 
warriors landed, and passed many days upon Wulpensand, watch¬ 
ing about the mound, communing with the voices on the wind, 
and praying for rest for the souls of their kinsfolk. Each night, 
for nine nights, they kindled the bale-fire, and watched thereby 
till dawn. 

One day, as Gudrun and Hildeburg were washing linen on the 
beach, they saw something like a white swan, which seemed to 
rise up from where the red sun sank into the golden sea. But as 
it drew nigh to them they perceived that it was a sea-maiden of 
rare and wonderful beauty. And the sea-maiden spake to them, 
saying, ‘ Ask something of me, for I know the secrets of the sea.* 
Then Gudrun besought her to speak concerning her home and 
kinsfolk, and how it fared with her mother Queen Hilda, and 
Ortwin her brother. The sea-maiden answered; ‘To-night, before 
the sun set, I was sixty leagues to northward, and there passed a 
fleet of many Danish war-ships on the waters above my head. I 
heard the warriors talk. Ortwin is there, Yarl Wate, and Yrolt, 
with a host of mighty-handed men ; and they steer for Normandy. 
Hilda the queen fares well, and sends them on their errand.’ 
Gudrun said, ‘ These are of a truth glad tidings; but tell me of 
Herwig; does he live, and has he forgotten Gudrun]’ The sea¬ 
maiden answered, ‘Herwig is with them; he has not forgotten, 
for I heard him speak of Gudrun as his dear and only love. Be 
of good cheer, maiden, there are strong hands at the oar-banks, 
and the ships will make no tarrying.’ Having thus spoken the 
sea-maiden sank into the water, and the golden sea closed over 
her. Then was Gudrun right glad of heart, yet for very joy dared 
scarce believe the words she had heard ; and Hildeburg and Gud¬ 
run forgat to finish their tasks, being fain to speak one to another 
of their dear friends on the sea. 

But when they got home at night, and Queen Gerlinda found 
their work not so much as half done, she becalled them the foulest 
names, and gave them only a mouldy crust and a cup of water for 
their supper; moreover, she took away the bed whereon they were 
wont to sleep, and made them lie upon the hard boards. And 
when morning brake, and they looked out of their window^, they 
saw the ground covered deep with snow, and the wind was blow¬ 
ing very bleakly. Then Hildeburg found her way to the queen’s 


The Gudrtm Lay. 363 

chamber where Gerlinda slept upon a bed of down, and besought 
her with tears that if they were to be sent out to wash in the 
bitter cold they might at least have shoes to wear because of the 
snow. Gerlinda awoke in a rage, and turning on her soft pillows 
said, ‘ You shall both do double task to-day for this ; and if you 
fail you shall be flogged. Shoes, forsooth ! You shall not have 
them. Let your pride warm you! ’ Hildeburg prayed, ‘ Have 
pity on us, or we shall perish in the bitter snow.’ But Gerlinda 
answered, ‘ Then perish ! What care I if you live or if you die 1 
It is naught to me.’ Then Gudrun, who had ventured to follow 
a little behind Hildeburg, said, ‘ A day may come when you will 
remember these cruel words.’ But the queen had the maidens 
driven out from the castle, and made them walk with naked feet 
through the snow to their hard task on the cold sea-beach. 

l!^ow at noon the Danish war-ships drew nigh shore, and Yarl 
Wate ran the vessels aground just off a headland where a forest 
stretched down to the water’s edge. There the Danes encamped 
with all their host, both of men and horses, and hid themselves 
in the shelter of the forest till they might learn how the land 
lay. 

When they had taken counsel together they determined to send 
out spies; and Herwig and Ortwin being bent on going, these two 
went forth to spy out the country, saying to their comrades, ‘ If 
we are taken, ransom us ; if we fall avenge usand gat them into 
a little boat, and rowed along the shore and round the woody 
headland tiU they saw a bare bleak beach and two maidens standing 
by the sea. 

Gudrun saw the boat and said to Hildeburg, * Peradventure 
these be the men whereof the sea-maiden spake. I should die of 
shame if any kinsfolk of mine saw Hettel’s daughter in this 
wretched plight.’ And Hildeburg being likewise ashamed, they 
left their washing on the beach and fled. Then Ortwin and 
Herwig called after them to stay, saying, ‘ Good washerwomen, 
do not flee from us ; we will not harm you.’ But the maidens 
made as though they heard not. 

Then said Herwig, ‘ For the sake of womankind we would have 
speech with you.’ 

Gudrun answered, ‘ You shall not plead that name in vain.' 

Then they turned and came back. And when they came before 
the warriors, Herwig and Ortwin were astonished at beholding 
them ; for though they shivered with the piercing cold, and were 
only clad in rags and went barefoot, and though their hands were 
roughened with hard tasks, they were royal women as a man 
might see. 


364 Popular Romances of the Middle A^es. 

‘ Fear not/ said Ortwin^ ‘ we will do you no hurt. But tell us, 
does your master keep many maias so fair to wash his clothes F 

Gudrun answered, ‘ Yonder in the castle are maidens fairer 
than we. But, good sirs, if you mean us well, hinder us no longer 
from our work, for we shall smart for it at night.’ 

Then Ortwin took out rings of red gold, saying, ‘ These will we 
give you if you will only answer us the questions that we shall 
ask.’ 

‘ Gifts are of no use to us,’ said Gudrun, ‘ they would be taken 
from us. Ask your questions quickly, but do not keep us idling 
from our work. We will answer, even if each word should cost a 
stripe to-night.’ 

Then Herwig asked, ‘ Tell us whose is the castle yonder 1 ’ 

They answered, ‘ That is King Hartmuth’s castle, these are his 
lands.’ 

‘And Hartmuth, is he within the castle 1’ 

They answered, ‘ Yes : and with him four thousand of his 
strongest warriors keep the walls.’ 

Now the maidens might have gone back to their work, for the 
warriors had learned all that they wanted to know ; but Gudrun 
and Hildeburg tarried on, because the Danish tongue was so sweet 
to them and sounded like old music to their ears. 

Ortwin said, ‘Why does Hartmuth keep so many warriors 
witliin walls 1 Is he then at war with his neighbours, or has he 
need to rule his people with the sword V 

Gudrun answered, ‘ Nay. But he used to fear sometimes that 
a people far across the sea would come and take vengeance for a 
king of theirs whom he slew. Now, perchance, it is old habit; 
it is long agO) and Hegelingen is so far.’ But at the mention of 
her home the tears came up in Gudrun’s eyes, insomuch that she 
was fain to turn aside to hide them. 

Then seeing them shiver in the snow, Herwig and Ortwin took 
off their furred mantles and besought the maidens to wrap them¬ 
selves from the cold; but Gudrun said, ‘ God reward you for 
your charity, but it is not meet for a maid to wear the garment of 
a man.’ 

Now as Herwig steadfastly beheld the face of Gudrun he saw 
continuall) how like she was to Hettel’s daughter, yet never so 
much as thought that it was Gudrun herself, believing that Hart¬ 
muth had long ago forced her to be his wife. And Ortwin said, 
‘Many years ago, was not a company of noble maidens carried 
captive to this place I And was not one of them called Gudrun?’ 

Gudrun told him, ‘ Yes: Hartmuth brought them. I knew 


The Gudrun Lay, 365 

Gudrun well; and better than most I know how much she 
suffered, and how long. If you know any friends of Gudrun’s, I 
pray you tell them, “ She suffered, and she kept her troth, and 
died.” ’ For Gudrun thought, it is better that my kinsfolk think 
so than know of my disgrace. 

When he heard these words a great trembling fell upon Herwig, 
and he cried out in the bitterness of his soul, ‘ 0 Gudrun, thou 
that wast and art my only love ! What can I do ? Too late I 
too late ! ’ 

Gudrun said quickly, ‘ Man, do not lie to me. Thou Herwig ! 
Herwig died long ago. I tell you I have seen him with his spear 
bear down an army when he came and fought before Hegelingen. 
No. Herwig is dead, or long ere this he would have come to save 
his faithful maid from shame ! * 

Then said Herwig, ‘Who art thou % ^ 

Gudrun answered, ‘ One of the captive maidens.’ 

‘ If you were one of Gudrun’s maidens,’ he said, ‘ you should 
know this ring upon my hand, for it was Gudrun’s ring. She 
gave it me.* 

Then a light came into Gudrun’s face and the tears into her 
eyes. ‘ I know the ring,’ she cried. ‘ I gave it; and to thee. I 
am Gudrun. Behold thy ring is yet upon my hand ! ’ She fell 
upon his breast, and there he folded her. MTio shall tell the tears 
they wept at greeting after so long sorrow 1 So they all knew 
each other, and Gudrun found her lover and her brother both in 
one day. 

Herwig would have carried Gudrun off straightway to the 
Danish camp but for Ortwin. Gudrun pleaded likewise to be 
delivered immediately from her hard bondage; but Ortwin would 
not. He said, ‘ How can I steal thee, sister, like a thief ? Fear 
not. We will certainly deliver thee.’ 

And Herwig said, ‘ Ortwin is right. We cannot do this thing. 
But be of good courage ; we have many thousand stalwart Danes 
with us, and the day is nigh at hand.’ But Gudrun’s heart sank 
within her, for she knew that a short delay had cost already all 
the years of her captivity. Herwig said, ‘ Only a little while and 
we will never more be parted.’ So the two men entered again 
into the boat and rowed away to their camp behind the headland. 

When they were gone Hildeburg said, ‘ We have tarried too 
long from our task to get it done to-night, but let us set to work 
and try what we can do, if peradventure it may lighten our 
punishment.’ Proudly spake Gudrun : ‘ Away with your tasks ! 
I have talked with kings to-day, and they have held me in their 


366 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

arms. I will no longer slave. Gerlinda may do her worst. I 
care not.’ And with that she took up all the heap of linen clothes 
and flung them in the sea. 

Now it befell that Heregard, that same faithless damsel which 
left her mistress for love of the king’s cup-bearer, seeing afar off 
how the men met Gudrun on the beach, ran and told the queen 
that Gudrun had been kissing two fishermen; for such she thought 
them, seeing their boat and their rough furred mantles in the 
distance. So at night when the maidens got back to the castle, 
Gerlinda bowed herself before Gudrun in mock obeisance, saying, 
• 0 j)roud and modest maiden, once a despiser of kings’ sons, now 
not too coy to kiss base fisher-people on the beach, have 1 broken 
your pride at last 1 Nay; lie not, woman : Heregard, here, saw 
you.’ 

Then said Gudrun in disdain, ‘It is not true. Never kissed I 
a man save he was of my kindred.’ 

The queen cried in a rage, ‘ Do you tell me to my face that I 
liel’ Then casting her eyes on the empty washing baskets, she 
said, ‘ Where are the clothes, you idle drudge 1 ’ 

Gudrun answered, ‘I threw them into the sea. There they 
may stay; I will no longer wash your clothes.’ 

Gerlinda’s very fingers itched to strike Gudrun. Quickly she 
commanded to fetch a bundle of sharp thorns, and bade her 
servants strip Gudrun and bind her to the door-post for a 
flogging. 

Then while all the women made doleful lamentations, Gudrun 
bethought what she should do. And presently she spake to 
Gerlinda, saying, ‘ How can I wear the crown after being scourged 
in sight of all the servants in the hall ? ’ 

‘ What mean you V asked the queen, scarce believing her ears. 

Gudrun answered, ‘ I am tired of drudging at your tasks, weary 
of rags and beggar’s fare. My mind is changed. I will be queen. 
Go and tell Hartmuth so.’ 

Then Gerlinda, rejoicing greatly in her triumph, made haste 
and came and told her son. And Hartmuth, not yet daring to 
believe the words he heard, ran in, and though Gudrun was still 
clad in her dripping rags, would have taken her in his arms and 
comforted her from her long hardships. But Gudrun drew back 
and avoided him, saying, ‘ Let not my lord the king be angry, 
but to-day I am a serving-maiden, and in these tattered garments 
I shrink from before the king’s state and magnificence. Array 
me first in royal raiment, that I may shame neither myself nor 
the<» ’ 


The Gudrun Lay. 367 

Hartmuth said, ‘Thou art queen already. Command what 
thou wilt and it shall be done according to thy word.’ 

Then said Gudrun, ‘ I would have a bath made ready to-night 
and all my w^omen set free to wait on me.’ So Hartmuth sent 
and commanded her thirty maidens to be brought from their 
tasks, and caused them to be clothed in garments fitting their 
high degree, and set them to wait upon Gudrun. And next 
morning when they were brought before the king, Gudrun walked 
queen among them all as the moon sails among the stars. 

Hartmuth commanded the tables to be spread and piled with 
delicious meats; and they poured out the ale and mead and held 
a feast. The king set Gudrun upon his right hand and next to 
her the gentle Ortrun. Glad was Ortrun because they were 
reconciled, and she said to Gudrun, ‘Sweet sister, I am happy 
because of thy relenting. My brother would have w^d no other 
woman, and I was the next heir to the throne. I am not wise 
enough nor fair enough to wear a crown, but thou art worthy. 
Dear sister, I am glad.’ And Gudrun being touched at the 
gentleness of her good friend, said, ‘ Dear Ortrun, God forbid I 
should ever forget all thy love and tenderness to me in time of 
need.’ 

Now when the feast was ended Gudrun spake to the king, 
saying, ‘ My lord Hartmuth, it is the custom in our land whenever 
a king would wed, that he should first gather together all his 
nobles to a feast, that they may see their queen and approve the 
king’s choice, and so have no excuse for after strife.’ 

Hartmuth answered, ‘ After thine own manner will I wed thee.* 
So he sent out messengers to go all round the country and 
summon his lords to the banquet. But Gudrun went away to 
her chamber, and when she was alone with her handmaidens she 
bade them be of good courage for deliverance was certainly nigh 
at hand; and she spake to them concerning Herwig and her 
brother whom she had met on the sea-beach. Then were they 
all glad, and Gudrun laughed aloud for joy. But a certain damsel 
of the castle passing by the chamber door, heard her laugh and 
went and told the queen. And Gerlinda went and told Hartmuth, 
saying, ‘Gudrun laughed to-night. She has not laughed for 
years. This is an ill-foreboding; I feel as though some evil hung 
above our heads.’ But Hartmuth answered, ‘ What idle fear is 
this % Gudrun laughed ? Why not 1 It is fit she should make 
merry, and rejoice to end her toil, and wed with me, and be the 
Queen of Normandy.’ So with a smile he bade his mother go to 
rest; but he went down into the hall and walked among his 


368 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

guards and set the watches for the night. Gerlinda lay and 
tossed upon her bed of down, and sleepless longed for day, yet 
feared to see it break. 

Two of Gudrun’s maidens watched at her window through the 
night; a wild March night, when the clouds were torn in the 
windy sky and the very heavens seemed adrift with the stars. 
So softly gathered the Danes about the castle walls that no noise 
was heard save the sea leaping on the sounding beach and the 
gust that shook the trees and howled among the castle battle¬ 
ments. But in the first grey dawn the maidens saw things move 
beneath the window, and ever and anon the glint of a spear, till 
as the darkness lifted they perceived the Danish host and their 
banners, and ran to Gudrun, saying, ‘Wake mistress, wake, for 
help has come.’ 

Just then the warder sounded an alarm, and the castle woke 
into a tumult of noise and clangour as Hartmuth and his knights 
girt on their armour and hurried to the battlements. Thence 
they looked out and saw the avenging banner of the son of Hettel 
blazoned with dagger points over stripes of blood, and Siegfried’s 
escutcheon marked with a red-gold head upon a field of brown. 
They saw a white banner with gold streaks which Queen Hilda 
wrought for old Yarl Wate; and foremost of all, the flag of 
Herwig, King of Zealand, with sea-weed figured on an azure field. 
Then came Hartmuth down to the great hall with his father 
Ludwig, and put himself at the head of all his warriors and gave 
command to open the castle gates. But his mother came and 
besought him, saying, ‘ Why go out and fight, my son 1 Is there 
not victual in the castle for a year 1 Then let them rage against 
the walls, whilst you hurl missiles and great stones upon them, 
or shoot out quarrels from the loopholes. Go not out against 
them, for I fear evil will come of it, and something tells me I 
shall never see you more.’ 

But Hartmuth said to his knights, ‘ Take her away. This is 
no place for women;’ And when they had so done he cried, 
‘ Fling open the gates !’ and with his mighty following, swarmed 
out upon the foe. First he met Ortwin, and they brake a spear 
together, but the crush of battle parted them. Then again they 
met, and Hartmuth clave Ortwin’s helmet and rejoiced to see the 
blood of his enemy. But a hundred spears pressed forward and 
strong Danish hands were there to drag Prince Ortwin from his 
death. Then far as a man might see the Avar-waves rolled upon 
the plain, and the hosts swayed to and fro in one great angry 
battle-tide. And as here and there upon a sea a billow SAvells 


The Gudrun Lay, 369 

more angry than the rest, so round Yarl Wate and Herwig, and 
round about Hartmuth and King Ludwig, the war-waves raged 
most furiously. Ludwig and Herwig fought; Herwig burning to 
Avenge King Hettel’s death; but Ludwig brought him to his 
knees and struck him senseless for the moment with his heavy 
blade. A sturdy Dane put forth his body in that instant and 
took the death-blow meant for his master. Full of bitter shame 
was Herwig that Gudrun should see him on his knees before the 
slayer of her father; and he arose and snatched his sword again, 
and while King Ludwdg raised his arm to strike, smote him 
through the armpit to the heart; so the king rolled down and 
sobbed his life-blood out upon the sand. King Ludwig being 
slain, the Danes gave a great shout and tare the Norman host to 
pieces like clouds tattered in the blast. Hartmuth made a great 
stand against Wate before the castle doors, but the old Yarl’s 
blows were like a sledge-hammer beating a smith’s anvil; and in 
the midst of the fray Hartmuth heard his sister’s voice shrieking 
for help, for a murderous Dane had got into the castle and she 
was struggling for her life. Yarl Wate knew it and let him go; 
so Hartmuth turned to the castle gate and saw the man come 
running out, for Gudrun’s women had fought for Ortrun and 
driven him down, and he was thinking to escape; but Hartmuth 
killed him in the gateway, and then ran to fight Yarl Wate 
again. 

Now Ortrun looked out from the window, and beheld how the 
Normans were slain on all sides by the fierce-hearted Danes, and 
she fell down at Gudrun’s feet and besought her, saying, ‘ Have 
pity on my people, on my friends and kindred. For the dead’s 
sake spare the living. Scarce a handful of our men remain. My 
father has been slain as thine was. Have pity on us : you have 
had blood for blood. And see,—0 sister, see how Wate is 
pressing on my brother Hartmuth ! He will kill him in his cruel 
war-rage. Hartmuth is faint and staggers ! Save my brother, 
sweet Gudrun ; pity us, and bid the battle cease.^ 

Then Gudrun took Ortrun in her arms and kissed her, and 
said, ‘ Sister, God forbid that I should forget all thy tenderness to 
me ; but what can I do ? How can I end this bitter strife F And 
Crtrun took her kerchief, saying, ‘ Wave it to Herwig. Make no 
tarrying, for the love of God, or Hartmuth will be slain ! ’ So 
Gudrun waved it from the window and by good fortune Herwig 
saw it and came to the wall. Gudrun said, ‘ Quick! stay the 
battle, as you love me. Save Hartmuth. See. Make haste ! ’ 

Then Herwig hasted, and ran in betwixt Yarl Wate and Hart> 

2 A 


370 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

muth and cried aloud, ‘ Gudrim bids the battle cease Let no 
more blood be shed.’ But the battle-madness was on Yarl 
Wate and he was terrible to friend and foe. ‘ What! cease at a 
woman’s bidding 1 ’ and he took Herwig by the middle and flung 
1dm far afield, then ran again on Hartmuth hungering ravenously 
for his life. But they blew the trumpet and the battle was stayed; 
and the host came up, and some with their shields sheltered 
Hartmuth ; others, a great company of them, hustled Wate away. 
So Hartmuth was saved from death; and they took and bound 
him and carried him off captive to their ships. Then the Danes 
hewed down the castle doors with their axes and brake in for 
plunder. They carried off King Ludwig’s treasure chests with all 
Ids gold and jewels, and beat down all that hindered them. 

Ortrun sought Gudrun and came weeping, saying, ‘ Thy people 
are athirst for blood. They slay on all hands men and women. 
They will have my life : save me, good sister ! ’ Gudrun 
answered, ‘ Fear not, thy life is dearer to me than my own. Come 
in with us, thou and thy maidens. No evil shall come nigh thee, 
dear sister.’ 

Then came also the Queen Gerlinda wringing her hands and 
wailing bitterly. She knelt down and kissed Gudrun’s feet, and 
covered tliem with her tears, and craved for mercy, saying, ^ O 
mighty queen ! deliver me from this blood-thirsty band.’ 

Gudrun said : ‘ Did ever prayer or cry of mine once melt your 
stony heart ? Have you not turned a deaf ear to my sharp dis¬ 
tress % Yet I will let you in. Be in my chamber as one of my 
maidens.’ Then Gudrun let her in, and made fast her chamber 
door ; and all the women crowded together for fear at hearing 
the terrible sounds in the castle. 

There came a mighty blow which brake down the chamber- 
door. Yarl Wate ran foaming in among the women ; blood upon 
his jaws and beard, blood upon his hands; his armour reeking 
with fresh blood; he, like a wild war-beast, blood ravenous still 
Fearless, Gudrun, went to him. ‘ Away, thou man of blood ! this 
is no fit guise for women’s company.’ The old yarl blundered to 
his knee. ‘ Pardon, Queen Gudrun, but I would know who these 
women be.’ 

Gudrun said : ‘ That is Ortrun, my friend and sister, see thou 
touch her not. Those are her waiting women. These are my 
maidens that came with me from Hegelingen. Now begone. So 
he went off grumbling. 

Then quickly ran the false Heregard into the chamber, intreat¬ 
ing to stand with Gudrun’s maids. Gudrun said, ‘ Of your will 


The Gudrun Lay, 371 

you left them ; you shall not return to them of mine. Go stand 
with Ortriin’s women if you choose.’ 

Yarl W'ate raged up and down tlie castle seeking Gerlinda, but 
at last came back to Gudrun’s chamber in a fury. ‘ Where is 
that woman 1 Give her up to me. I tell you she is here : and I 
will have her.’ 

Gudrun answered boldly, ‘ She is not here.’ 

AVate said, ‘ Then I will slay them all, for one I know is she.’ 
Now Queen Gerlinda had crouched down behind the other women, 
and at these terrible words the rest fell down upon their knees ; 
so Wate saw her. Then he came and dragged her to the door by 
the hair, and saying fiercely, ‘ Have you any more clothes for my 
queen’s daughter to wash to-day 1 ’ cut off* her head ; whereat the 
women shrieked in terror. He said, ‘ Now I will have her that 
soldT herself to that dead woman; ’ and at this so many of the 
maidens looked towards Heregard, that Wate seized her, and at 
one blow sent her head rolling on the floor. 

Now after the strife was done and they had buried the bodies 
of the slain, the Danes carried off five hundred captives to their 
ships and much treasure, and set sail for Denmark. Ortrun went 
with Gudrun in one ship, and Hartmuth went in keeping of Yarl 
Wate. Proudly they sailed home to Castle Matalan, and joyful 
was the greeting that Queen Hilda gave her warriors. They held 
a royal feast with music and with dance, and day by day in 
the mead-hall the skalds sang of the deeds that each man had 
done in battle. 

Long pondered Gudrun in her mind how the long strife 
between the Danes and Normans might be ended; for she 
thought, a day will come when the Normans will grow strong 
again and seek revenge; first they, then we may conquer, and the 
feud will never cease. So she went to her brother Ortwin, and 
said, ‘Brother, let us make a lasting peace with the Normans; 
and thereto that we may bind both peoples do thou take the 
gentle Ortrun for thy wife.’ Ortwin said, ‘ I am in nowise loth, 
for Ortrun is both fair and tender of heart. But w^ould Ortrun 
wed with me ? Have we not slain her father and her mother 1 ’ 
Gudrun said, ‘ Ask her ; she is all gentleness.’ 

And a little after that came Ortrun shyly to Gudrun, saying, 
‘ Shall I ] ’ Gudrun answered, ‘You have called me sister; will 
you be my real sister 1 ’ Ortrun kissed her—‘ Dear sister, 1 
will.’ 

Then Gudrun made intercession with the queen her mother 
that Hartmuth might be set at liberty; and this being granted, 


0/2 


Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

he was brought into the great hall, not knowing whether life or 
death should be his portion. Gudrun came and led him away 
a little apart and spake with him. * Hartmuth look forward 
many years; think of the children of our peoples, and their 
children’s children. What if this strife go on through many 
generations, and our boys be only born to die in battle, and our 
girls to grow up mothers weeping for their dead ? Is it not 
better to establish peace for ever 1 My brother would wed thy 
sister, and we offer thee the noblest maiden in our realm, the lady 
Hildeburg, that was ever a sweet and faithful friend to me, to be 
thy wife. Wilt thou thus make alliance with us and put an end 
to many sorrows throughout many ages'? ’ 

Hartmuth walked to and fro upon the pavement, and for a 
long while answered nothing, but went on turning over many 
things in his mind, and weighing his long love against the long 
future of his people. Presently he spake : ‘ When Ortwin weds 
with Ortrun, I will take Hildeburg to wife.’ Gudrun was 
moved to tears, and took him by the hand and called him friend, 
and kissed him for the first and only time ; and that in sight of 
Herwig and of all the people. Then lightly ran she off to Hilde¬ 
burg with these glad tidings, knowing aforetime the secret of her 
heart. 

Such a day was never known for rejoicing in Denmark as 
when Gudrun and Herwig were wed, and with them Ortwin 
and Ortrun, and Hartmuth and Hildeburg. The five hundred 
captives were set free, and Danes and Normans made a solemn 
vow that peace should henceforth be betwixt them, since they 
were become of one blood. Thenceforward, iii the long years of 
quiet, when both peoples prospered and grew rich, their children’s 
children sitting by the fireside told the tale of Gudrun, and blessed 
her that she made the peace. 


‘ilhe §tctri; of Jfrithjof anb Ingcbjorg. 

King BeliS of Norroway had a little daughter named Tngebjorg. 
The boy Frithjof was her playfellow in her father’s palace. No 
king’s son nor royal prince was Frithjof; he was only Thane 
Thorsten’s boy. But the king and the thane were friends ; and 
because friendship makes all men equal, there was no more con ¬ 
straint betwixt king and thane than betwixt their two children 
which played together in the palace. 

When Ingebjorg was six years old it came into King Bele’s 
mind to send her to the sage Hilding, to leam the wisdom of 
men and the knowledge of the gods ; but liking not to part the 
children, he asked leave of Thorsten and sent Frithjof also, to be 
brought up with her in all the learning of the time. 

Hilding dwelt by the sea. Above the windy cliffs, far up a 
bleak down-side, was a garden in the hollow of the hills, shel¬ 
tered by wood and mountain ; a garden where one might always 
hear the breaking of the waters on the beach. There Hilding 
dwelt; there he taught Ingebjorg and Frithjof many years. 
You have seen the bud that swells and pinkens till the glory of 
the rose unfolds ? So fair grew Ingebjorg. You have seen the 
sapling oak grow up and lift its arms to brave the storm 1 So 
strong grew Frithjof. Hilding taught Frithjof the Eunes be¬ 
cause he was the elder ; but Ingebjorg learned them of her play¬ 
mate. In the open air she learned them, from his lips, wander¬ 
ing with him across breezy hills, or through forests of mur¬ 
murous pine, or sitting at his feet by the sea-shore, watching the 
white-fringed waves curl in. The first spring flowers of the 
year, the first summer fruit, Ingebjorg took from Frithjof’s 
hands. For her he climbed the tallest trees to bring down 
birds’ nests; for her he clambered up the steep black crag upon 
the promontory, and robbed the eagle’s eyrie. Sometimes in a 
little boat the boy would venture with her far out upon the heav¬ 
ing sea; but if the wind blew and heeled the boat a-list, or drave 
the spray in sheets upon them, Ingebjorg would only clap her 
hands for joy : she had no fear where Frithjof was. 

As their childhood wore away Ingebjorg stayed oftener at 


374 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

home, learning embroidery and womanly work; Frithjof grew up 
a great hunter. Yet ever he brought his spoils to Ingebjorg—no 
longer flowers and fruit, but heads of wild boar, skins of bear. 

In the long winter evenings, sitting round the hearth, Hilding 
would tell them stories of the gods. Sometimes he spake of 
Freyja and her golden hair which is praised in all lands; but 
Frithjof would smooth Ingebjorg’s shining tresses, and think, 

‘ Freyja’s hair is less beautiful and golden than this.’ Sometimes 
he talked of Frigga, and how she had the most lovely eyes in all 
the world; but Frithjof looked into Ingebjorg’s sweet blue eyes, 
and believed it not. 

Hear a story Hilding told them :— 

Baldufs Death. 

Baldur was fairest of all the sons of Odin Allfather. Eadiant 
and shining was his body; when he rode his white horse through 
the sky, light streamed out from him over all the earth. Who 
so dear to gods and men as Baldur ! Wise and sweet were his 
words. The gods kept silence in Asgard when he spake. 
Baldur made wells of water on the earth. Wheresoever he 
thrust his spear into the ground a spring of water gushed forth, 
and a grove of trees sprang up. Those springs never fail and 
those trees are evermore renewed ; and so long as the world lasts 
the groves shall be holy sanctuaries which no man may profane, 
but wherein priests continually shall sacrifice. 

Baldur’s home was a palace called Breidablick, built on pillars 
in the heavens, far above the clouds, farther than eye can see; 
far above storm and rain ; where flowers never fade and summer 
never dies. There Baldur dwelt with Nanna, his soft-eyed wife, 
in perfect happiness; for no evil thing could pass the pillars of 
his palace. He loved all things in heaven and earth. Asgard 
was filled with joy because he was glad, and beneath his smile the 
earth laughed. 

But evil dreams came to Baldur in his sleep. He dreamed 
that he should die ; and when he was awake the like sad fore¬ 
boding fastened on his mind, so that a gloom came over him. 
Nanna sat and sighed because of his sorrow ; his mother Frigga, 
goddess of earth, wept secretly, and all Asgard was saddened. 
Odin Allfather took counsel with the gods, and meditated day and 
night, but all in vain. Neither could his wise ravens, Huginn and 
Fluninn, who know the thing that has been and is, tell him aught 
of what shoidd beMl Baldur. 

Ihen Odin determined to go down to the pale kingdom of 


The Story of Frithjof and Ingebjorg. 3)5 

Death to find out what it was that threatened the son most dear 
to him. He mounted his steed Sleipnir; and his two wolves 
following and the two wise ravens circling round his head, he 
sped down like lightning through the air and coming to earth 
took the path that leads to the cold regions underground where 
})itiless Hel holds sway. In a kingdom of fog down a horrible 
depth lives Hel, the restless goddess of Death. Loki, whose heart 
is Malice, is her father, and Hel’s sisters are the terrible wolf 
Fenrir, and the great earth-encircling serpent. 

Hel sits on a throne of skulls and bones. Her face is loath¬ 
some with corruption like a corpse. Her plate is Hunger; her 
knife Greed; Misery her hall; Silence her threshold; her bed 
is Wasting; her bed-hangings men call Pest; Sloth is her hand¬ 
maiden. Foul and black is her habitation, noisome with slime 
and death-dews; the pillars of her house are serpents’ bones; a 
river trails through the hall, thick and sluggish with its load of 
rotten dead. Nidhoggr sits on the banks sucking the corpses of 
murderers. 

Odin came along the path which no living foot has trod. The 
death-hound howled ; but he saw the king of gods and men, and 
slunk back to his lair. Odin looked down through rolling fogs 
that came up from the halls of Hel, and dimly he saw the pale 
Death-kingdom. Behold, there was a table newly spread, a cup 
fresh filled with mead, and a golden bed made ready; but no 
man sat at the table, nor drank of the cup, nor lay upon the bed. 
Then Odin came to the grey stones beneath which the Norns lie 
sleeping. He sprinkled sand on one of the stones, and with his 
sword-point wrote in the sand three times the Eunic words which 
wake the dead. The Norn awaking, spake from beneath the 
hollow stone: * What would you 1 I am weary; let me sleep.’ 
Odin said, ‘ In Hel’s pale palace, lo, I see a bed made ready, a 
table spread, and mead outpoured. Say, for whom are these 
things prepared r The Norn answered, ‘ Baldur will sit at the 
table; Baldur will drink of the cup; Baldur will lie in the golden 
bed. I am weary; let me sleep.’ 

Swiftly sped Odin back to Valhalla, his glorious palace, built 
of shining spears and roofed with golden shields. Heavy-hearted 
sat Allfather in his radiant hall; and the ^sir made lamentation 
with him because it was written that Baldur should die. Then 
Baldur’s mother, the Queen Frigga, thought of a plan. She said, 
‘ Let us take an oath of all things in heaven and earth that they 
will not harm Baldur.’ And all the .^sir said, ‘This is well 
spoken.’ 


3 7 ^ Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Then the gods sware ‘ We will do Baldur no hurt,’ Spear, 
and sword, and arrow, axe and javelin, every manner of weapon 
whereof the pattern is in Valhalla, clanged against his fellow, 
saying, ‘ We will do Baldur no hurt.’ Sun, moon, and stars, as 
they rolled, sang, ‘ We will do Baldur no hurt.’ The clouds 
sware it, and all that is in them; lightning, and rain, and ice, 
and tempest, and the howling winds. Sickness, Plague, and 
Famine came forth from their lurking places, and said with one 
accord, ‘ We will do Baldur no hurt.’ The Night sware it, and 
the shadows, and the dews and mists; the Fire leaped up to take 
the oath. 

Frigga, goddess of the earth, came down to her kingdom, and 
prayed all things to do her son no harm. The multitudes of 
people cried with one glad voice, ‘ We will do Baldur no hurt.’ 
Then the sea and all that is therein sware it; the air and every 
fowl and insect that moveth above the earth. The earth and all 
things underground murmured, ‘ We will do Baldur no hurt.’ 
Every beast and creeping thing that goeth on the earth, all trees 
and herbs that spring from the ground, made a covenant with 
Frigga, saying, ‘ We will do Baldur no hurt.’ 

M either was there anything in heaven above nor in the earth 
beneath which took not the oath, save only a little spray of 
mistletoe which had no root on the ground but grew upon an 
aged oak and sapped the life out of the tree. 

Happy was Frigga; happy Allfather. The gods made merry 
and rejoiced. And after that Baldur would stand among them 
for sport, whilst they flung spears and javelins at his body, or* 
smote at him with swords. No weapon harmed him; neither 
point nor edge would so much as scratch his skin, because of the 
oath which all things had taken to do Baldur no hurt. So the 
livelong day Baldur’s ringing laugh sounded through the halls of 
Asgard, whilst he played among the gods and caught their spears 
and arrows in his naked hands. 

But Loki was envious of Baldur. Loki has nio pleasure unless 
he can bring sorrow to the hearts of gods and men. Loki found 
out that the mistletoe alone, of all things in heaven and earth, 
had not taken the oath; and he hasted and cut it down, and 
made an arrow of the twig, and pointed it very sharp. Then 
came Loki to the wood of Glasir, outside Valhalla, where the 
-iEsir were shooting at Baldur. 

Hoder, the blind god, stood apart from the rest, laughing to 
hear the merriment, but took no part in the games—how should 
lie, being blind ] 


The Story of Frithjof and Ingebjorg. 377 

Loki came to Hoder, saying, * Come, join the sports. You 
will know where Baldur is by the sound of his laugh. Take this: 
arrow. Fling it; and show that a blind god can do as well as 
the rest.’ Hoder took the arrow from his hand and flung it at 
Baldur with a merry laugh. 

Baldur fell dead; pierced to the heart. The blue faded from 
his eyes, and his radiant body grew pale and cold. Quick the 
uEsir gathered round their favourite. Nanna was there, and 
Frigga, calling on his name. But Baldur was far away in the 
dusky kingdom of Hel, sitting at the golden table, and drinking 
the mead from the golden cup before lying down upon the golden 
bed. Sharp was the sorrow of the gods, and bitter the sound of 
their wailing in Valhalla. ‘ Baldur is dead. Dead! Baldur the 
Beautiful is dead—is' dead ! ’ All things on earth made lamenta¬ 
tion, saying, ‘ Baldur is dead! Dead ! Baldur the Bbautiful is 
dead—is dead ! ’ 

Loki could not be found. Not even the anger and grief of 
Odin Allfather could find him. Blind Hoder wept bitterly, 
because Baldur was very dear to him. 

They bore Baldur’s body to his good ship Einghorne that lay 
beached upon the margin of the sea. But for all they are so 
strong, the -^sir could not push the ship into the water, it was 
so heavy. Then they called Firesmoke the giantess, who came 
riding on a wolf with a bridle of serpents. She, by her great 
strength, pushed the ship into the water: so swiftly it ran down 
the beach that the rollers caught fire as it rushed into the sea 
with a mighty noise. Thor was angry at the fire and smoke, 
since it is his alone to shake the earth with thunder and lighten 
from the sky; and with his hammer he would have slain the 
giantess, only the other gods besought him, and he spared her. 

Then they made a pile upon the ship’s deck, and laid Baldur 
thereupon. With his own hand Odin took the torch and lighted 
up the fire, and when the flames leaped high and wreathed round 
Baldur’s body, Odin cast his ring Drbpnir therein, and sent the 
vessel sailing on the sea; whilst all the .^sir cried, ‘ Baldur is 
^ead !—dead ! Baldur the Beautiful is dead !—is dead ! ’ But 
the gentle Nanna wept not; Nanna mourned not for Baldur. 
She was with him. Grief had killed her. 

Odin sent down to Hel in her cold kingdom underground, 
‘ What ransom wilt thou take, and give me back my bright and 
radiant boy % ’ Hel answered, ‘ Treasures are naught to me; I 
will have tears. Is Baldur verily so dear to gods and men? 
Let all things weep for him, and I will give him back; but I will 
first have tears from everything in earth and heaven.’ 


378 Popttlar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

So the command went forth. ‘Let all things weep for Baldur.* 

The winds wailed ; the clouds wept; the stars hid their faces ; 
sun and moon grew wan and pale ; dews rose from the earth ; 
every tree and flower bowed its head; tears stood upon each 
blade of grass; the birds ceased their songs; the wide sea 
moaned on every shore. There was nothing on earth which did 
not weep for Baldur. 

In Asgard there was mourning and lamentation among the gods. 
Was there anything that mourned not for Baldur % Loki was not 
in Asgard. Loki was not to be found. But far apart there sat 
a grey old woman, nursing her knees, who sat and munched, and 
muttered the while :—‘ Baldur gladdened me never in life—I will 
not weep for Baldur.’ Peradventure that old crone was Loki in 
disguise. That is why Baldur comes not back. 

But will he never return to brighten earth and heaven ? It is 
written that Baldur shall not always dwell beneath the ground. 
Ilis radiance shall break out from Hel’s dark prison-house, and 
burst through lock and bolt and bar. The sky will know when 
Baldur is coming, and will shine again as in the olden days when 
he sped across it on his swift white horse. The earth will know, 
and for gladness flowers will spring up from th«; ground ; the 
trees will lift their heads and blossom, and all the birds of the 
air shall sing; yea, everything shall make music and be glad 
when Baldur the Beautiful comes back. 

That was how Hilding taught them of the Death of Summer 
time. When it thundered he would say, ‘ Hark, that is the 
rumbling of Thor’s chariot wheels over the clouds ! ’ And when 
it lightened, ‘ See how his hammer flashes across the sky ! He 
is flinging at the Trolls.’ So Hilding joined earth and heaven in 
their minds, and showed them the parables of trees and hills and 
clouds. 

What wonder that, as they grew in years, great love sprang 
up between the two 1 What wonder if they saw the beauty of 
the gods within each other’s eyes ? Frithjof was Ingebjorg’s 
Baldur; she, his soft-eyed Nanna. And when Frithjof would 
tell Ingebjorg that she would be his wife some day, it made her 
glad : in truth she wished no better lot. 

But Hilding when he knew of this was sorry and said: ‘ O 
Frithjof, root out this love from thy heart before it grow up and 
bear thorns. Thou art a bondsman’s son. Ingebjorg is daughter 
of King Bel4, whose generation springeth from the gods.’ 

Frithjof answered, ‘ Hast thou not taught me that before the 





The Story of Frithjof and Ingebjorg. 379 

gods a man is wliat he is, not what his fathers were ^ Do not 
the gods deny their own offspring if they prove unworthy, and 
take instead to sit with them in Valhalla the noble-minded and 
the fierce in war ? ’ 

But Hilding only hade him think no more of his love, for that 
evil would certainly come of it. 

King Bel4 waxed old and fetble. One day as he sat in his 
palace he leaned on the hand of his friend, the grey old thane 
Thorsten. And the king said, ‘ Good friend, our life-day is far 
spent, and the night draws on. The steel helmet presses heavily 
on my weary head ; the mead has lost its flavour. It is time to 
rest. But through the darkness we will muse upon the bright¬ 
ness of the gods—so shall our thoughts be like stars tq cheer the 
night, until the day breaks on the golden splendour of Valhalla. 
Summon hither my sons, and with them thy son Frithjof, that I 
may bless them while I have strength, and bid them hold together 
as we have done.’ 

Thither came.the king’s sons, Helgi and Halfdan to the palace; 
Frithjof was with them. Dark and gloomy was the conntenance 
of Helgi: he came from communion with the priests ; blood fresh 
upon his hands from the noontide sacrifice. Halfdan, the younger, 
bright as sunshine, had the face and form of some fair wilful girl 
who had girt on sword and ringmail for a merry jest. Frithjof 
stood a head above them both, and nobler, as the noon is twixt 
the night and day. 

King Bele said: ‘When I am gone I would have you three 
dwell in one mind. As the spear-ring bindeth the spear-shaft 
together, so fellowship shall make you strong. Let the sword- 
point guard your borders, but cover ye the kingdom with the 
shield. In the people is the strength of a king. He is a fool that 
oppresseth them; the tree withers when the roots lack nourish¬ 
ment. There be four pillars which do carry the heavens, but 
only one pillar supporteth the throne of a king. Law is its 
name; and that king which doeth his own will instead of the 
law, pulleth down the seat whereon he sitteth. Son Helgi, be 
strong, but forget not mercy. Mercy adorneth might as a flower 
is an ornament to a brazen shield. The mighty should be tender; 
the best blade bendeth most. Trust not to auguries ; the signs 
in the altar-victim may deceive, but never the Kunes that Odin 
writes upon an honest heart. Get trusty friends; they are to a 
man like bark to a tree, to shelter the heart in the evil day of 
winter storm. Boast never of thy sires. What profitetli a 


380 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

mighty bow to him that cannot bend it to send forth the arrow 1 
Every river rolleth to the sea on his own waves. Halfdan, thon 
art bright and pleasant; but the sweetest honey without hops 
will make no mead. Let thy sword-hilt glisten with gems, if so 
thou hast the mind, but when thou drawest it let all l: stn know 
that the blade is steel. Get knowledge ; fools are many, wise 
men few. Remember folk will come to thy feasts because thou 
art a king’s son; they will eat thy dainty meats and drink thy 
mead ; but if a fool sitteth at the head of tlie table, they will turn 
and listen to a wise man in a lowly seat. Choose not too many 
friends ; only an empty house is open to everybody.’ 

Thorsten likewise spake to Frithjof: ‘ My son, honour the gods. 
Though their dwelling-place is in Disirsaal, they see everywhere, 
even into the hearts of men. As the flowers are gladdened when 
they look up to the sun, so is a man’s heart when he thinketh of 
the gods. Honour the king: it is needful that there should be 
one master in a kingdom; the bright day hath one sun, but tlie 
darksome night hath many stars. The people' is the kingdom’s 
sword against the enemy: one man may take the sword by the 
hilt, but many grasping it by the blade shall wound themselves. 
Son, thou art strong, and strength is the gift of the gods. Never¬ 
theless, be not proud of thy strength : for a bear hath the strength 
of twelve men, yet one man taketh him. Many a one that stilteth 
himself up with pride, cometh down to walk on crutches. Death 
is sure to every man ; his might faileth and his strength dieth with 
him, but his fame liveth after he is gone, and sweet is the savour 
of good deeds.’ 

Then after the two old friends, king and thane, had counselled 
their children, they gave commandment to be laid side by side in 
two mounds on the seashore, where the murmur of the waves 
might hush them in their sleep. And it came to pass soon after 
that they closed tiieir eyes and died. Never, all his life, had 
King Bei6 faced tight without the trusty Thorsten at his right 
hand ; and even in death the thane went with him down to Hel’s 
dark kingdom. 

They which go by the mounds to this day hear oftentimes 
strange murmurings like far-off voices. Some say that it is 
nothing but the wash of the sea upon the beach, or the wind 
blowing through the crisp brown grasses on the cliffs; others lift 
a finger and say, ‘Listen, King Bel6 and his faithful thane are 
wliispering in their sleep !’ 

Then Helgi and Halfdan began to reign in Norroway, ruling 
the kingdom between them. 


The Story of Frithjof and Ingebjorg. 381 

But Frithjof went away to take possession of his inheritance of 
Framnas : three miles of farm and pasture bordered by the sea. 
Birchwoods crowned the heights: on the slopes waved yellow 
barley and rye, tall as a man \ sleek herds browsed in the lush 
green meadows; on the plains the woolly sheep slow drifted, 
white as the cloud-flocks in the sky; the lakes were full of fish, 
the forests of broad-antleiied elk.. Twelve pair of chargers, bridled 
storm-winds, champed impatient in their stalls; their manes 
knotted with scarlet, their hoofs bright with iron. The mead-hall, 
built of pine, would seat six hundred men. Holm oak benches 
and tables were ranged round against the walls. A black, glossy 
bearskin, with a mouth of scarlet, and silver claws, lay thrown 
across the chief seat at the end, where Thorsten had been wont 
to sit; and on either side were carven in elm the images of Odin, 
All-ruler, and Frig the god of rain and sunshine. ^ In the midst 
of the hall was a hearth of polished stone, whereon was always a 
merry blaze, sweet-scented of the resinous pine-wood, and above 
it a great chimney, so wide that at night one might look up and 
see the stars twinkle. Against the walls hung suits of mail and 
arms enough to furnish a host of men; well filled were the cellars 
with good ale and mead, and the chests in the store-rooms were 
heavy with booty. 

But greater riches had Frithjof than these, for he inlierited 
three far-famed treasures. 

The first was Angurvadel, bright as the northern light, tho 
wondrous sword made by the dwarfs, the hilt whereof was gold, 
and on whose blade were written mystic Eunes which none might 
read. In time of peace the Runes grew dull and pale, but in the 
battle-day they blazed forth red as blood and fierce as fire. 

Next was a golden arm-ring, wrought about the hoop with 
pictures of the gods, and in the midst a glittering ruby. Lame 
Way land the smith made it for the first of Thorsten’s race. But 
a Viking named Sot6 stole it from Thorsten, and taking ship 
hasted to Britain. Thither Thorsten pursued him. King Bel6 
also bearing him company. On the rocky shore they found a 
cavern wherein was a mighty tomb. Thorsten and Bele looked 
in and saw a fearful vision of the black ship of the Viking, that 
moved and shimmered like to flame. Upon the vessel’s mast, in 
a robe of fire, sat a skeleton scouring a sword-blade to get the 
blood-stains out, but all in vain; and on his arm of bone there 
shone the bracelet. Then they knew that Sot6 was dead, and 
that this was his spirit: and King Bel6 said, ‘ Let us both go in 
but Thorsten answered, ‘ Nay, shame it were for two to fight with 


382 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

one.’ Then went he in. King Bel4 listened and heard the clash 
of swords, and horrible wailings which cannot be uttered. Then 
came a long and fearful cry; then silence. Thorsten came 
running out, white as a stone, with cold dews upon his face : but 
the ring was on his arm. What had happened King Bel4 never 
knew, and Thorsten would not tell. Once only the thane spake 
of it, and said; ‘ Would rather I had died than bought the ring 
so dear.’ 

The third great treasure was the ship Ellide. It was in like¬ 
ness of a dragon, with golden head and open jaws at the prow; 
the belly thereof was scaled with blue and gold ; and it ended at 
the stern with a twisted tail of silver. The planks of the ship 
were not joined by the shipwright, but had grown together. It 
had black sails, bordered curiously with red, like to a dragon’s 
wings; and when they were outspread the ship flew over the 
calmest sea as though before a storm. One of Thorsten’s fore¬ 
fathers, when out at sea, picked off a sinking wreck an old man 
with green tangled locks like seaweed, and brought him home, 
warmed him at his fire, and gave him mead. Not knowing who 
he was, he would have sheltered him through the night; but the 
old man said that it was time to be away at sea, and vanished, 
none knew whither. That was* the great god -^gir, the sea-ruler : 
he sent the ship for a present for befriending him. 

Those were the treasures of Frithjof. 

Frithjof came to the mead-hall to the funeral feast. Twelve 
cham|)ions sate round his board. At his right hand was the fair* 
haired Bjorn, bright as a flower among withered leaves. There 
in the wine-cup, Frithjof and Bjorn sware fellowship for life. 
Then silently all drained the mead-horn to the memory of good 
Thane Thorsten. The Skalds came in and sang the praises of 
the dead. 

Helgi and Halfdan sate in judgment by the gravemound of 
their father. To them came Frithjof, sailing across the sea in 
Ellide his dragon-ship, Bjorn and his companions with him. 
Lightly stepped Frithjof from the ship, and coming into the circle 
of men thus spake : ‘ King Helgi and King Halfdan, are we 
friends, even as our fathers were 1 I crave a boon of you. I am 
not of kingly race as ye are, and might have waited till with my 
stiong hand I had won a kingdom for myself, made myself your 
equal, and then, with a crown of red gold on my head, come and 
proftered my request. But love of the land and the throne is 
strong in me, and I would rather stay and fight for Norroway, to 
keep her kings in safety on the throne, and her peasants secure 


The Story of Frithjof and Ingebjorg, 383 

within their homesteads. Wherefore I pray you give me Inge- 
bjorg to wife. Have we not grown together from childhood, till 
love has made us part and parcel of each others Surely King 
Bel6 willed it so in training us together. Here, by his mound I 
ask it: beneath the earth he hears me ; let it be according as he 
willed.’ 

Helgi’s face grew dark, and with a sneer he answered: ‘ The 
thane’s son, bred upon my father’s alms, would seek to mate with 
Odin’s line ! Bounty is wasted on a bondsman. Eaise a peasant 
from the dunghill, and he will want to elbow thee from off the 
throne. Kind it is of thee to offer to guard my people and my 
land. Know that the king is the people’s shield. Cease from 
presumption, and perchance, for my father’s sake and the odd 
liking he bare to thine, I may find room for thee among my hired 
servants.’ 

Frithjof laughed bitterly, and to his sword cried, ‘Wake, 
Angurvadel!’ The good blade leaped from the scabbard, blood- 
red its runes. But Frithjof said, ‘Helgi, I cannot smite thy 
black heart from its bone-house; thou art son of my father’s 
friend.’ Then went he to a tree where Helgi’s shield of gold and 
brass hung upon a bough, and at one blow of his sword cleft it 
in twain. ‘ That was well struck, .good Angurvadel: back to thy 
scabbard and dream of war till I awake thee next.’ Then whilst 
Helgi and his men stood silent, cowering for fear, Frithjof cried 
scornfully, ‘ Birth ! Lineage ! He says we are not equal! Look 
at the sons of Odin’s line, trembling before the thane 1’ Angry 
he gat him to his dragon-ship, and crossed the sea-ways home. 

Far away north dwelt old King Ring, gentle as Baldur, wise 
as Mimir. His people loved his silver hairs; his ear was ever 
open to their cry; the wronged he righted, the distressed he 
comforted. No war-ships anchored in his bays, but merchant- 
ships came thither from all lands to barter. No war-steeds 
trampled down the standing corn on the peasant’s land. Ring 
dwelt in peace, the father of his people. From every home 
prayers went up continually to Odin for his welfare. But King 
Ring’s wife was dead, and he had mourned her long, till, being 
desolate, and his folk urging him, he looked to find a mother for 
his dead wife’s child, and a queen for the comfort of his people. 
And hearing the fame of Ingebjorg, who men said was gentle as 
she was fair, the king sent messengers with costly presents to 
woo her from her brothers. 

But King Helgi spake austerely to the messengers, and bade 
them wait three days for an answer, whilst he sought auguries 


384 Popula 7 '‘ Romances of the Middle Ages. 

from the entrails of falcons and horses new*killed upon the altar- 
stone. On the fourth day Helgi returned from communing with 
the priests, and said to the messengers, ‘ Many victims have we 
slain to learn the will of the gods, and the augury of them all is. 
Nay. King King must be a man of evil heart: he is displeasing 
to the gods: I have no will but theirs.’ Halfdan said merrily, 
‘ Tell old Greybeard to come himself, and see how quickly we 
will help him on his horse again.’ And with that they turned 
and left the messengers without so much as a farewell or a 
courtesy. 

So the messengers returned to their king and told him how 
they were treated. King King pushed back his golden seat and 
stood upright. He said, ‘ Old Greybeard will go himself.’ Then 
strode he to the courtyard, and smote upon the great brazen war- 
shield of the land that rusted there upon a lime-tree. Quick 
gathered he his warriors, and filled the bay with war-ships, 
numberless and terrible. 

Helgi was afraid and knew not what to do when he learned 
that King King was coming to fight him. But he took Ingebjorg 
and shut her up in the temple of Baldur for safety ; for Baldur’s 
temple is safe against unhallowed feet amongst all Northmen. 
Moreover, Helgi prevailed upon old Hilding to go and intercede 
for him with Frithjof and to persuade him to come and help them 
against King Bing. 

Hilding found Frithjof playing chess with Bjorn, at a board 
with gold and silver squares. Frithjof greeted his old tutor 
gladly, but would not listen to his message: he poured out a 
horn of mead and bade him refresh himself whilst they finished 
the game. 

Then Hilding said, ‘ 0 Frithjof, cease to be angry with Helgi 
and Halfdan. Haste to help them, for King Bing cometh with 
all his men to fight against us.’ 

Frithjof made as though he heard not. ‘ Bjorn, here is check 
to the king. Will you save it with the pawn 1 But what is a 
pawn, a paltry pawn, that it should save the king V 

Hilding, well knowing for whom the speech was meant, said, 
‘ My son, be not high-minded : Helgi and Halfdan may be weak 
ag'vinst King Bing, but against thee they are strong enough to 
lay waste thy house and take thy land.’ 

Frithjof laughed: ‘So Bjorn, you would have my castle 1 
Well, I have guarded it with my knights; so try your worst.’ 

Hilding said, ‘Leave the game, Frithjof, for the game of war. 
Behold Ingebjorg weeps day and night in Baldur’s grove. Let 
her tears intercede with you.’ 


The Story of Frithjof and Ingebjoi^g. 385 


Frithjof cried, * Bjorn! Bjorn! would you take my queen 
away 1 But the queen shall be saved !’ 

Frithjof left his game and stood up, and took Hilding by the 
band. ‘ You have heard my answer. Go, tell Helgi, “ The king 
is the people’s shield,” and I will not be his thane.’ 

Hilding answered, ‘ Son, I have done my duty; but I blame 
thee not.’ 

At sunset Frithjof led Bjorn to the beach where Ellide, his 
dragon-ship, pulled impatient at her cable. They got into the 
ship. ‘Whither goest thouF asked Bjorn. ‘ To Ingebjorg,’he 
said. 

‘ What! To profane the grove of Baldur 1 ’ 

Frithjof answered, ‘ I care not, and I dare. I must see Inge¬ 
bjorg. I will see Ingebjorg. Friend Bjorn, the gods see every¬ 
where. Baldur knows that my heart is clean of ill-intent. An 
honest heart defiles no temple. I will go.’ 

Baldur’s grove was bounded by a wall which reached the sea. 
No man might enter that holy place on pain of death, save after 
sacrifice and purification by the priests. Frithjof heeded not: he 
climbed the steep wall by the sea, and came to Ingebjorg, who 
trembled for fear because he had profaned the grove. ‘ Fear not, 
dear Ingebjorg, but come, let us seek Baldur’s pardon, and 
Baldur’s blessing on our love.’ Together they walked through 
*.he silent grove, and came into the temple and bowed themselves 
>efore the altar of the god. When they arose a calm fell upon 
Frithj of’s mind. Ingebjorg said, ‘ Dear Frithjof, they who 
worship here, being sanctified, may listen to the promptings of 
their hearts, for Baldur from his altar sheddeth peace. What 
wouldst thou do?’ Frithjof answered, ‘My anger against thy 
brethren is turned away. I will do all to make the peace save 
give thee up. I will go to Helgi in presence of all the people, 
will give my hand to him in friendship, and ask him to forget 
the past, to give thee to me, and to take the faithful service of 
my life.’ Ingebjorg kissed him, saying, ‘ Go; they are Baldur’s 
words and mine.’ So he went upon the errand. 

Three days passed by; then Frithjof climbed the wall again, 
and came into the grove to Ingebjorg. Pale and cast-down he 
came. She saw the answer in liis face, yet asked him, ‘ It has 
failed?’ 

He answered, ‘ It has failed. Hear what I have borne with a 
patient and a steadfast mind. I came to them as they sate by 
the mounds; thousands were with them, taking counsel about 
the war. Meekly I said to Helgi, “ 0 king, I have been hasty 

2 B 


386 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

and impatient, and maybe have presumed too much. Let al) the 
past be past. Tlie enemy is near. Let us be friends. What do 
I seek % I ask thee to make thy sister happy and our land strong 
against the foe. Give me Ingebjorg, and bid me fight against 
this King or any man. By Thor ! you shall see how strong my 
arm is.” All the people urged him, saying, Give him thy sister, 
for there is no better mate for her in all the Northland.” Then 
spake old Hilding long and wisely, urging him, and even Halfdan 
thy brother, sitting at his side, turned round and likewise spake 
for me. But Helgi sat listening to their words and mine as a 
stone upon the altar listens to the pleadings of a victim. He 
would not take my hand, nor yet refuse it, but sat still as an 
image. There was silence. He cannot speak without a sneer: 
he said, “lam well-nigh minded to make friends. Forced by 
sore need to buy my friendship dear, I would be fain to give my 
sister to a thrall’s son; but never to him that has profaned the 
sanctuary. Perchance it is not true ; yet I have heard how one 
brake into Baldur’s temple, and defiled his holy grove. Is this 
so? Answer me—was it thou ?” Up rose the people’s cry, “It 
is not true ! Frithjof has not done this abominable thing !” My 
Ingebjorg, it was hard to answer; to turn the people’s clamour 
in my cause to hate; to lose thee, almost 'won. But I never 
thought to lie. I answered, “ Unbidden I climbed into Baldur’s 
grove, since Ingebjorg was there. Where she is I will go, in 
Asgard or in Hel, and neither man nor god shall keep me back. 
Yet hearken ; I defiled not the temple of the god ; judge ye, for 
lo I entered it burning with hate—peace fell on me there, and 
thence, straightway, I came to thee with gentle words which 
Baldur put into my mind.” Then I became accursed in men’s 
sight, and folk drew back and shunned me like a leper. No 
longer any raised his voice for me. Helgi said, “ Death is the 
penalty, but my judgment shall be as gentle as the god whose 
temple you have polluted. Away in the western islands dwelleth 
Yarl Angantyr, who paid us tribute till King Bel6 died ; now he 
holdeth fast his gold. Men say he sleeps upon it as the dragon 
Fafnir did upon the treasure. Go, wrest the tribute from him. 
If you bring it, well; if not, return no more.” Such, Ingebjorg, 
is my sentence. Men think it just and merciful. Eilide swims 
at anchor yonder, and I go.’ 

‘And leave me, Frithjof?’ 

‘ Nay, sweet one, nay, I will take thee with me. Come, where 
none shall point the finger at thy mate, and say, “Profane!” and 
shudder and turn aside. . See, Eilide spreads her wings all eager 


The Story of Frithjof and Ingebjorg. 387 

for the sea. Come to Yarl Angantyr’s islands. He was my 
father’s friend, though Helgi knows it not, and he will welcome 
us.’ 

‘ And wouldst thou break thy word and not bring back the 
tribute V 

‘Never fear but we will send Helgi back his dross, and be for 
ever free of him. Come !’ 

‘ O Frithj of, I was to blame. My heart goes with thee, but I 
cannot come. Helgi is in my father’s place. I dare not disobey 
him. It is th^ft to steal the happiness forbidden; not less so 
when it hangs within our reach, but only harder to refrain from 
plucking it.’ 

‘ Hast thou no other word for me V 

‘Go, Frithjof, alone. I will not have men say of thee, he 
lurked about and stole his wife and fled lest he should face her 
brother.’ 

Heavily turned Frithjof away. ‘ Proud daughter of a king, I 
go alone : farewell.’ 

‘ Proud ? " Aye proud ; but only proud of thee, dear Frithjof.’ 
8he came and leaned upon his breast and covered him with kisses. 
‘ Do I not love thee, Frithjof, that thou wouldst go away without 
a kiss, whilst I shall sit and weep till thy return t Go, with a 
brave, strong heart, and trust in me.’ 

Then Frithjof felt that she was right, and he kissed her and 
drew forth the armlet of Sote and set it for a pledge upon her 
arm. So they parted; and he gat him to his dragon-ship and 
sailed away. 

When Frithjof had been many days at sea, the wind blew cold, 
the hoar-frost whitened deck and spars, the rigging grew stifi" with 
ice, and the oarsmen’s hands were numbed with cold. The clouds 
piled black and brooded down; the sea, moved from its depths, 
rolled in great tossing hills, and seethed and roared. Furious 
the storm-waves leaped upon Ellide to swamp her. The good 
ship quivered with the blows, and lurching, shook herself, then 
fearless swooped down the yawning water-valleys, and darted up 
the green sea-hills. Afar they saw the storm-fiends riding on 
a whale ; one like a white bear, the other the great storm-eagle, 
fanning the tempest with her huge black wings. They are the 
sea-witches Heyd and Ham; and it was Helgi who sent them to 
raise this storm to swallow up his enemy. Then Frithjof took 
the tiller in hand and steered straight on the fiends. ‘ Help me, 
brave Ellide; show thyself the sea-god’s gift. On, on, with all 
thy speed.’ And when the good ship beard her master’s voice, 


388 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

all her deck-planks creaked as she flew on and smote the whale 
with her bow so mightily that he sank into the depths ; and the 
storm-fiends were left tossing on the water, till the sea-weed 
tangled them and the storm went down. The sun shone out, the 
sea grew calm and blue, and Frithjof anchored off the island 
where Angantyr dwelt. 

Yarl Angantyr was feasting in his castle. He looked out of 
his window and said, ‘That is Thane Thorsten’s dragon-ship 
Ellide.’ Then arose Atli, fiercest of his Vikings, and said, ‘ If 
this be Frithjof, I will know if there be a spell in his sword as 
men have said.’ The battle-madness came on Atli as he went 
forth to fight. 

Frithjof had landed with twelve of his men. They had brought 
food and kindled a fire, and being very tired, sate them down on 
the beach to eat their meal. Atli came haughtily, and called 
with a loud voice, ‘ Choose ! Fight, flee, or yield ! ’ 

Frithjof answered, ‘ We are men already wearied with fighting 
the sea ; but we will neither flee nor yield.’ With that they fell 
to and fought, till Frithjof, with Angurvadel, cut Atli’s sword 
in twain. 

‘ There is -witchery in thy sword,’ cried Atli. 

Frithjof said, ‘ Try my hands then,’ and flung away his sword 
and wrestled with the Viking. Back he bent the big man like a 
reed, and held him arched upon a balance, till he overcame his 
quivering sinews and flung Atli heavily upon his shoulders. 

Kneeling on his enemy’s breast, Frithjof said, ‘ Had I now my 
sword I would still that tongue of thine, that it should no more 
boast itself against tired men.’ 

‘ Fetch it. I will not stir. Valhalla for the brave! for you 
to-morrow, for me to-day.’ So spake the Viking. 

Frithjof fetched his sword, but Atli quailed not. He drew 
the blade, and the fierce runes shone red; the Viking stirred 
not, but with a quiet eye awaited death. Frithjof put back his 
sword into its sheath, and taking Atli by the hand, said, ‘ Man, 
arise; thou art too brave to die: let us be friends.’ So they 
went together to Angantyr’s castle. 

Frithjof marvelled at the richness of the mead-hall. The walls 
were hung with gilded leather curiously wrought with flowers. 
The hearth was marble. White tapers in silver candlesticks 
shone everywhere like stars. There was glass in the windows 
of many colours: the doors had locks. In the chief seat, on a 
chair of silver, sat Yarl Angantyr, clad in armour of gold and 
steel From his shoulders fell a purple robe sprinkled with silver 


The Story of F 7 dthjof and Ingebjorg. 389 

«tars. The meats were served in silver dishes. Many warriors 
sate round the board, and when Frithjof entered all rose and hailed 
him, and having drained the mead-hom to his honour, led him to 
a seat on Yarl Angantyr’s right hand. 

The Yarl said, ‘Son of Thorsten my old friend, thou art 
welcome.’ Then Frithjof told his story, and wherefore he had 
come; told of his love for Ingebjorg, and the sentence laid on 
him by Helgi. 

Angantyr answered, ‘ Never yet paid I tribute to any man, but 
I gave King Bel6 of Norroway many gifts for friendship’s sake. 
As to his sons, I know them not; and for tribute, bid them first 
unlock my coffers with their swords. But I will give a gift to 
thee for Thorsten’s sake. I loved him, and his son is dear to 
me ’ Then he called for a purse, and his daughter fetched one 
which she had broidered with needlework and precious stones. 
On it was the likeness of a castle in a forest, with golden 
beasts among the trees, and it was fringed with pearls. Angantyr' 
filled the purse to the brim with gold, and gave it to Frithjof, 
saying, ‘ Take it: it is thine: a gift of welcome to my friend. 
Do with it as thou wilt. Only abide with us for a while.’ So 
the good-hearted Yarl persuaded him to tarry on from day to 
day, till whilst he lingered winter passed and springtime came. 
Then, longing for his home and Ingebjorg, Frithjof pushed 
Ellide into the sea and stood for the NorthlancL 

Seven days he sailed the sea; then looking out afar he saw 
the land; a long blue line of cliff and hill, soft as a cloud betwixt 
the earth and sky. His heart beat fast, for he was nearing home; 
and as the blue waxed grey he strove to make out Framnas, the 
dwelling of his fathers—looked for its birch-crowned heights, its 
mellow fields dotted with flocks and herds. But as he looked 
the view faded; a mist came over the sun and dwelt on sea and 
land. So he ran Ellide to shore, and coasted till he reached the 
well-known creek and heard the waterfall leap down the hills of 
his home to the sea. He beached the ship, and with a glad 
heart set foot on the misty shore, and took the path up by the 
cliffs. 

His homestead gate was gone. His home was gone. There 
was a wild and a waste where Framnas was. He trode on 
ashes everywhere. Black ashes heaped on scorched grass: trees 
cindered into black stumps of arms where they stood: ruin and 
blackness—that was Framnas. And in the midst a heap of 
charred timber, and stone cracked and powdered white with fire 
—that was his mead-hall. His favourite hound, half starved. 


390 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

cr(^[)t up and licked his hand. His horse came neighing for some 
corn and thrust his nose against his master’s fingers. 

That was Frithjof’s welcome home. 

There had been a great battle with King King. Halfdan 
fought bravely, but was beaten; Helgi took fiight, and as he 
fled fired Framnas betwixt him and his pursuers to keep them 
back. Then Belt’s sons had begged for peace. Bing bade them 
choose whether tliey would give up the land or give him Inge- 
bjorg to wife. They had given up their sister. King Ring had 
wedded her and taken her away. 

Old Hilding told him : Hilding that would not lie. He said, 
‘ I saw her wed. The}' set her on a black horse; she, white as 
a ghost upon a thunder cloud; and led her to Baldur’s temple. 
There she fell down and made her prayer to Baldur so pitifully, 
that all which heard her wept. She alone wept not. But I— 
I know. Often by night when she has deemed herself alone, I 
have heard her walk and weep, and call upon thy name, and 
wrestle with her grief. The stricken sea-mew dives that none 
may see her bleed. She said, “ Baldur hath brought all this to 
pass because we profaned his temple.” “ Heaven pity Am,” she 
said ; “ for he will live, but I shall fade and die.” Yes. I saw 
them wed; and when the Skalds had done their songs, Helgi 
caught sight of your armlet on her cold white arm. With an 
oath he snatched it from her and set it on the arm of Baldur’s 
statue. Straightway I drew my sword: fury made me strong; 
I could have cut him down in the temple wdiere he stood. But 
she laid a finger on my hand, and whispered, “Good friend, 
forbear: Allfather sees and knows; leave judgment unto him.”’ 

Frithjof said fiercely, ‘ Allfather judgeth by the hand of man. 
The gods put vengeance in our hearts to do their will. Beware 
of me; I am harmful to friend and foe : henceforth I am a 
firebrand on the earth.’ So the berserk madness fell on Frithjof. 

In Baldur’s temple they kept the feast of the longest day. 
Though it was midnight, the sun lay dusky-red upon the moun¬ 
tains. A ruddy twilight glimmered through the grove; within 
the temple the pine-fire crackled on the hearth. Priests in white 
bearskin robes stirred the wood-pile, and made the sparks fly 
up. King Helgi in his royal robes stood sacrificing before the 
altar. Suddenly there was a noise at the temple-gate, and a 
sound of voices. 

‘Bjorn, keep the door; let no man pass alive !’ 

Frithjof and his men pushed their way through priests and 
people to the altar. 


391 


The Story of Frithjof and Ingebjorg. 

Ttien cried Frithjof, ‘ Helgi, I have done your bidding: I have 
brought the tribute; but I will first be requited of you. You 
have robbed me of home and wife; and now, before Allfather, 
you shall answer for it. Nay, seek not to skulk away; I have 
tracked the rat to his hiding place and stopped his hole. Here, 
by the light of Baldur’s flames, uncovered by shield, we will fight 
together with sword, or knife, or hand-gripe.’ 

In terror at his fierceness Helgi slank down against the altar 
and cowered upon the altar-steps. 

Frithjof cried, ‘Pitiful coward, my sword despises thee !’ He 
took the heavy purse of tribute money, flung it full in Helgi’s 
face, and stunned him there, saying, ‘ Take thy tribute! ’ and 
spurned him with his foot. Then to the threatening priests, 
‘ Put up your sacrificial knives, you wool-clad mob; lest our 
thirsty swords mistake you for the victims, us for priests.’ 

Then perceived he the armlet upon Baldur’s arm, and he said. 
By your good leave, dear god, lame Way land forged it not for 
thee. That ring is Ingebjorg’s and I will have it! ’ Fast was 
the ring upon the arm; but Frithjof pulled and plucked until he 
tare it off; when lo! with his violence the statue fell into the 
fire. The fire leaped up and lapped it in its arms; the flames 
rose high and licked the rafters of the roof, until the temple was 
ablaze and the gold plates of the ceiling melted and dripped 
gold upon the floor. In vain they made a chain of men to the 
sea, and passed buckets of water hand to hand to Frithjof 
mounted on the roof. The flames would not be quenched. A 
wind arose and the grove took fire; dry with the summer heat, 
bough kindled bough, and when the morning brake, grove and 
temple were a smouldering heap of ashes. 

Frithjof in horror gat him to his ship, and put to sea. He saw 
the smoke go up to Odin to accuse him, and he said, ‘There is no 
hope for me, and.no forgiveness for my sin. A wanderer will I 
be. The sea is free. There will I dwell. I have no home; but 
thou, my grim dragon, henceforth shalt be my Framnas; no 
wife—be thou, my black-winged Ellide, my bride.’ 

Then came Bjorn and touched him while he mused. ‘ See 
yonder! Helgi with ten war-ships gives us chase.’ Quick he 
forgat his sorrow, and put the ship about, and made ready his 
men for fight. But Bjorn was very cool; while the rest shouted 
the battle-cry and clanged their weapons, he sat still upon the 
oar-bank watching. Presently the ten ships sank like stones, and 
all on board were drowned save Helgi, who contrived to swim 
ashore. And when Frithjof and his men marvelled greatly, Bjorn 


392 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

laughed aloud; he said, * I bored holes in them last night. Ho ! 
Ho!’ 

Thenceforth Frithjof and his men became Vikings and r»)ved 
the seas. Very strict were the laws which he made for his 
champions. No man might take shelter from storm or sun, by 
night or day. The deck was the Viking’s bed, a shield his pillow, 
the sky his coverlid. His sword must be short to bring him near 
his enemy. The Viking never furls sail in a storm : the hurri¬ 
cane carries him the way he would go; the force of the storm 
helps the arms of the rower. He shall protect merchant ships, 
but they shall pay him tribute; the merchantman is a slave to 
gain, but the Viking’s steel is worth as much as his gold. Booty 
shall be shared by lot without murmuring; all shall share it alike, 
save their chief; for him the glory alone sufficeth. The Viking 
shall board the enemy’s ship to fight; and he that yieldeth so 
much as a hair’s breadth shall be thrust out of the company. 
The plea for mercy shall be heeded: he that giveth up his weapon 
is no more an enemy. No man shall dress his wounds until the 
fight be done ; battle-scars are the ornaments of the Viking. 

Three years fought Frithjof, unconquered through all seas, till 
victory cloyed on him and he grew sick of spoiling. A lonely 
man, the longing grew and strengthened in his mind—‘ If I 
might look upon her face again ! ’ Fierce fighting lulled it for 
the time, but ever it came back strong and stronger. So at 
last he turned the good ship’s head to Northland, and like an 
eagle, Ellide stretched her black wings and sped as though before 
a storm. 


King King kept Vule-feast in his hall. The winter of old age 
had snowed his hairs, yet noble was his countenance. Beside him 
at the board sat Ingebjorg his queen, pale and drooping as a lily- 
flower. There was clamour in the hall from noisy warriors 
merry over the mead-cup, mingled with the sound of pipe and 
harp. 

On the beggars’ bench against the door there came and sat an 
old man bent with age, wrapped from head to foot in a tattered 
bearskin. He laid aside his staff and rested on the bench. A 
bluff old warrior, the bully of the board, now blustering m his 
cups, came up to jeer the beggarman for the others’ sport. The 
beggar-man’s eye kindled, and in a moment he took the warrior 
by the middle betwixt his hands, twirled him head over heels, 
and set him on his feet again. 


The Story of Frithjof and Ingehjorg. 393 

man ! Come hither, O stranger! Who art thou 1 Whence 
comest thou ? What is thy name, thy country, and thine errand 
here 1 ’ 

The old man answered, ‘ Sorrow nurtured me; want is mine 
inheiitance ; my last lodging was a wolfs den. Once I rode a 
winged dragon. For years I have ploughed green fields, yet left 
no furrow, reaped no crop but salt. Now in mine age I have 
^urneyed far to hear thy wisdom, which is famed throughout the 

The king said, ‘ Thy grasp is strong; thy voice is clear. Thou 
art not old. Wherefore, throw off thy disguise that we may 
know our guest.* 

Tlien Frithjof threw off his bearskin, and behold a young man, 
bright like llaldur, strong of limb like Thor, golden his hair as 
sunshine. From his shoulder a blue mantle fell; his coat was 
girded with a silver belt whereto a sword was slung; and on his 
arm were many rings of gold. 

Did anyone-know himT In the queen’s cheeks the colour came 
and went like the red north-light flushing the snow-fields. But 
King King gave no sign. 

There was a blast of horns, and serving-men bare in upon 
a lordly dish the wild boar on bended knees, served whole, and 
decked with garlands in Freyr’s honour. And when the dish was 
set upon the table, King King laid his finger upon the boar’s 
head and thus spake : ‘ Helgi and Halfdan have I conquered, and 
hereby I vow by Freyr, whose is this feast and oflering, that 
Frithjof likewise I will overcome.’ 

Frithjof upstarted, wrathful and fierce. ‘The man you speak 
of is my friend. I swear I will protect him with all I have and 
am! ’ 

The king smiled gravely. ‘ Stranger, whoever thou art, I like 
the bold of speech. Be our guest through the winter. Nay, deny 
me not.’ Then spake he to the queen to fill the cup of honour 
and bear to him. 

Trembling she poured the yellow wine into the gold-ringed 
horn. Scarce could she bear the cup, her hand was shaking so 
that the mead was spilled upon the floor. Her eyes fastened on 
the pavement as she bare it, so the stranger should not see her face; 
but he saw the blushe'fe coursing on her fair white arm. He took 
the cup and drained it at a draught. Long sate the warriors at 
their carouse, to the sound of merry music and the brave songs of 
the Skalds. 

While Frithjof tairied with King King the sea froze hard; and 


394 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

the king commanded swift horses to be yoked to his sledge, for 
he would go upon the ice-plain. 

‘ Go not,’ said Frithjof; ‘ for treacherous is the ice-bound sea ; 
Ran, wife of the sea-god, lurks beneath the brittle ice to drag men 
down.’ 

Ring answered not, but cried to his steeds, ‘ Away, and show 
yourselves of Sleipnir’s breed! ’ So saying, he shook loose the 
reins, and away went the coursers athwart the ringing crust of ice. 
Then quickly Frithjof fastened his skates upon his feet and over¬ 
took the king’s sledge and skated circles round about it, whilst 
for all the horses might do they could not so much as pass him. 
Suddenly brake the ice : sledge, steeds, and king went down into 
the sea. But Frithjof came to the hole, planted his skates firmly 
in the ice, and griping the horses by the manes, dragged sledge 
and all upon the ice again. 

‘ Stranger, that was a brave hand-grip,’ said the king; ‘ Frithjof 
himself could not have done better.’ Frithjof laughed, for he 
deemed that the king knew him not. 

While yet he tarried, springtime came. The birds made music 
in the new-leafed trees; loosed from their frost-bonds the brooks 
sang merrily down the valley-sides; and pink as Freya’s cheek 
the rose brake from its coverlid. And as it befell, the king and 
queen would go a hunting. With them went a multitude of their 
people to join the sport. Frithjof went also. Like a star upon a 
fleecy cloud the queen seemed on the proud white horse that bare 
her. Her hunting-gown w^as green and gold, and in her hat blue 
feathers waved. Frigga, earth goddess—Rota, the bright-eyed 
battle-maid—was scarce more fair than she. 

Now, in the midst of the hunting the king grew weary, and fell 
back from the rest with Frithjof only for company. Afar they 
heard the baying of the hounds, and the frightened game breaking 
through the wmod ; saw the falcons soar and dart for prey, and the 
herons swoop in their circles. And lagging still they came into 
a lonesome place, shut in three sides by trees, but on the fourth 
was a yawning chasm rent in the cliff—above, a mighty rock-side, 
arid far down the narrow cleft uprose a steam and the faint noise 
of water plashing in the abyss. 

For a while neither spake ; but at the last King Ring gat off 
his horse and said, ‘ 0 stranger, I am weary; I would rest 
awhile.’ 

Quick answered Frithjof, ‘ Nay, rest not here. There is danger 
in this lonely place; I cannot stay with thee. We will hasten to 
the castle. There shalt thou rest.’ 


The Story of Frithjof and Ingebjorg, 395 

Tlie King said, ‘Not so; slumber cometh at the will of the 
gods, unlooked for, but when sought avoideth us.’ So he pre¬ 
vailed on him, and Frithjof came down from off his horse, and 
sate under a beech-tree against the trunk; he spread his mantle 
on the ground, and the old king lay down. On Frithjofs lap he 
laid his head, and closed his eyes ; gentle was his rest, as a child’s 
upon his mother’s knee, fearing no evil. 

Frithjof looked on his quiet face and sat a thinking. This was 
the man that stood betwixt him and Ingebjorg. His fingers 
wandered scarce knowing to his sword-hilt, but feeling it they 
shrank away again. 

There came two birds and sate in the tree, the one coal-black, 
the other white as snow. The black bird sang :— 

Quick ! ’twill never be known nor seen. 

Kill the King and win the Queen ; • 

For she is thine with plighted kiss, 

And a man may take his own, 1 wub 

But the white “bird sang :— 

Allfather sees, and he will know 
The man that slays a sleeping foe ; 

Odin can make thy winning vain, 

Or turn thy patience into gain. 

Tlien, fingering at his sword with trembling hand, he drew it 
forth and shuddering flung it from him. It turned glittering in 
tlie air, and dropped far off among the dark trees of the wood. 
Immediately the black bird fled down to Nastrond, the night 
kingdom; but lightly the snow-white bird unfolded her wings and 
soared up into the blue sky, making music in her flight, sweet as 
the sound of harpstrings. 

And the old king awakened upon Frithjof’s lap and said, 
‘ Sweetly, 0 my friend, have I slumbered; for a pleasant thing 
it is to enter the shadow of sleep guarded by a brave man’s blade. 
But where is thy sword ? Where is Angurvadel, the lightning’s 
brother 1 ’ 

Frithjof answered, ‘ It availeth little; there are other swords in 
the Northland. But it is not well to commune, always with 
Angurvadel. Sharp is its tongue; it thirsteth evermore for blood, 
for a dark spirit from Niflheim dwelleth in the steel. It hath no 
respect for slumber nor grey hairs.’ 

Then said the King, ‘ Frithjol', I know thee. When first thou 
didst cross my threshold I knew thee; yet I made as though I 


39 ^ Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

knew thee not, for I had heard of Frithjof, called of men the Wolf, 
Frithjof which defiled the sanctuary, the strong-handed one that 
brake up shield and ship and temple when he willed. And I said 
I will know this man and prove him. Frithjof, I slept not; I 
put my life into thy hand to try thee. I know what came into 
thy mind. Friend, I have tried thee and thou art true. Yet one 
thing passeth my knowledge—how, being thus true and brave, 
thou couldst have stolen into my house in beggar’s guise to rob 
me of my wife.’ 

Frithjof said, ‘ The gods well know I never came to rob thee of 
her—only to look upon her face. Had I the mind to have taken 
her, who should have hindered me But 1 have my punishment 
to bear. Thou hast not wronged me. She pledged herself to me; 
she was mine ; but Baldur took her from me for my sin and gave 
her to thee. For this same cause men shun me—call me Wolf of 
the sanctuary ; the very children shrink away when I draw near; 
Baldur, the gentle god that loveth all things, hateth me, and 
hideth his face before the blackness of my sin. So I became a 
wanderer and ploughed the dreary sea. But the longing came on 
me to see her yet once more ; I strove against it, yet 1 came— a 
beggar, to look on her sweet face—disguised so that none, not even 
she, might know me—then without word or sign to go back to 
the waste wide sea unto my banishment. Thou madest me throw 
off my beggar dress, and day by day didst urge me to remain, till, 
deeming myself unknown to all but her, and since my wish was 
stronger than my will, I yielded. I wronged thee not in word 
nor thought. But I have stayed too long. To-morrow I will go 
away, and thou shalt never see me more. Good Ellide! thou hast 
rested all too long. To-morrow thou shalt spread thy wings to 
the breeze, and bathe thy dusky bosom in the welcome sea. The 
thunderstorm, the roaring hurricane, and the battle-din shall be 
to me, henceforth, instead of any sweet voice of wife or child, until 
1 die in fight and go up to Valhalla.’ 

Tearfully answered the grey old king : ‘ Dear friend, I blame 
thee not for loving her. Who that hath seen her can help loving 
her ? I call to mind the fires of my youth, even though in my age 
the embers have grown cold. Go not away. Stay with us yet. 
1 am old ; my days are few ; bear with me for a little while until 
I die ; then shalt thou take the queen and all my kingdom for her 
dower.’ 

King Bing sat on the morrow upon his royal throne; Ingebjorg, 
all white and trembling sat at his side, knowing what had come 
to pass. His warriors stood round about. 


The Story of Frithjof a^id Ingebjorg. 397 

Haggard and worn came Frithjof into the hall. He had not 
slept. 

He said, * The livelong night I have thought and thought. It 
must not be. I cannot stay; I cannot look on her and love her 
not. I dare not stay ; I dare not stay to break her peace. But 
I have brought the arm-ring back. When I am gone I pray thee 
put it on her arm—’tis hers ; ’twill comfort me to know that she 
is wearing it. One other word, and then farewell. Go not with 
Ingebjorg to the sea-shore, lest after all I cannot tear myself away, 
and Angurvadel drink my life upon the sand ; or lest, dying on 
the sea, my very bones drift back to whiten on your beach.’ 

He turned to go. 

The king cried, ‘ Stay! It behoveth never a warrior to be 
bowed down like a woman. What is death for a king to fear, 
save only lest he meanly languish out his days and die op straw ! 
To me, alas, it was never given to rise to Valhalla from the battle- 
plain. The unkind Valkyries chose me not. But Frithjof—I am 
old and thou art young. To me Death’s message cometh, 0 my 
friend—to me ! ’ 

So saying, he thrust his sword into his breast, and whilst his 
life-blood spouted to the ground he signed to Frithjof to come 
near, and placed Ingebjorg’s hand in his. Then lifted he the 
mead-horn high, and with a cheerful countenance cried, ‘ I drink 
to my land, to the old Northland. Hail ye gods ! Hail warriors 
of Valhalla ! I greet you; and I come ! ’ 

So died King Ring of the Northland. The people made his 
grave-mound, and the bards sang of his wisdom and his gentleness. 

After this the folk gathered to the Thing-stone to choose a 
king ; and with one voice the people said, ‘ Yarl Frithjof shall be 
our king, for Ring’s boy is too young.’ But Frithjof took the 
little gold-haired child and set him on his shield, and lifted him 
aloft in sight of all the multitude, saying, ‘This is your king! 
Howbeit, until he be grown I will protect the land, and hold the 
throne for him. Here swear I never to seek my own, but his in 
all things; and if I am false may Baldur smite me with a yet 
more heavy punishment 1’ 

The child sprang fearless from the shield to the ground and 
took Frithjof’s hand; and the people shouted : ‘The boy is king! 
Yarl Frithjof keeps the throne for him, and he shall wed with 
Ingebjorg.’ 

But Frithjof went away alone and said within himself—‘ How 
can I wed with one so sweet and fair, when I am yet accursed in 
the sight of the gods and before the people of my land V. Then 
he took his journey and came to his father’s grave-mound by the 


39S Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

sea-beach. There he sat all one weary night praying Baldiir to 
take the curse away. And Baldur showed him a sign in the 
darkness; for lo! he saw a temple in the air, which shone out 
from the gloom, rose up, and waned away. So Frithjof hasted 
back, and came to King King’s palace; and he sent for artificers 
in wood and stone, and smiths that could work in gold and silver, 
and he began to build a temple to Baldur after the pattern which 
he had seen in the vision. All the while it was building he took 
no pleasure in hunt, or feast, or sound of harp. And when it 
was done, behold a grove of trees which no man planted sprang 
up round about, and shut it in on three sides; on the fourth the 
sea washed the rock whereon it stood, and pictured the temple 
on its shining face. 

The temple was the wonder of the land. It had a gate of 
brass inwrought with curious work. Huge pillars upbore the 
roof—a mighty golden shield. The altar was one hewn stone of 
Northland marble, bright-polished, and carved with Runic words 
of power. Above it stood the image of Baldur wrought in pure, 
shining silver. 

When all things were ready, Frithjof went up to the dedication 
of the temple to make atonement. As he came into the hall 
twelve youthful priestesses in white robes walked two and two 
about the altar, singing a sweet hymn to Baldur. Frithjof 
listened, leaning on his sword, and as they sang, his soul grew 
restful; his burden seemed to pass; and from above the altar the 
god shone mildly as the moon upon the peaceful night. 

With stately tread came forth the grey high-priest, hoar in the 
service of the god; a man of lofty stature, whom age had not 
bent; noble his visage, stern of line, yet from his eyes was shed 
a kindly light. 

Thus he spake:—* Son, welcome to the holy place. The strong 
man cometh tired home. 

‘ Baldur has set a parable in the heart of man. To every child 
Hel gives back Baldur; but as the child grows, Hoder the blind 
god comes; then steals Loki into his heart, making Hoder’s hand 
to swerve, and Baldur is slain, to dwell thereafter only as a 
shadow in his grown-up mind. A man must fight with Loki 
even as the gods must do. What careth Baldur that thou heap 
up stone on stone'? Thrust Loki from thee, if peradventure the 
bright god may dimly shine within thy heart again as in thy 
childhood’s days. He careth not for sacrifice, save only sacrifice 
of that which keepeth him from thee. 

‘Wherefore lay neither horse nor falcon on the altar, but lay 
thereon thy pride, thine anger, and thine hate of Belt’s sons. 


The Story of Frithjof and Ingebjorg, 399 

Why dost thou hate them % For their pride of birth % Thou art 
prouder of thy strength ; yet it is not thine. The gods gave to 
thee thy strength, and to them their lineage. Have they wronged 
thee ] Forgiveness is very sweet to Baldur. But thou hast been 
high-minded and high-handed with them. They have suffered ; 
suffered wasting of their kingdom; their women mourn for 
warriors sleeping in the great war-mounds; their sister was 
carried away \ Helgi died wretchedly-’ 

Frithjof stopped him. ‘Helgi dead—nay, nay, kind priest! 
O say not he is dead, and I forgave him not!’ 

‘ Helgi is dead. Whilst yet this temple was a-building ho 
warred with the Finns, and laid waste their land. On a cliff 
there stood an ancient temple to Yumala. No man had entered 
it for years, because of a saying among the people, “ He that first 
goeth in shall meet the god upon the threshold.” Helgi cared 
not. Kashly he sought to spoil the temple of them which he 
called heathen—men which worship God beneath another shape. 
The rusty key would not turn in the lock. He tore away the 
pillars, and shaking down the door, ran in. The heavy idol 
tumbled from its rotten seat, and fell on him, and crushed him 
in the temple’s dust. 

‘Frithjof, forgive the dead. Lay by all bitterness and malice 
against the living. Make peace with Halfdan. Be at peace with 
all; so peace shall come into thy heart. Baldur hath spoken 
through me his priest.’ 

Then Frithjof beheld and saw Halfdan standing timidly upon 
the brazen threshold, fearing to come in. Quick loosed he the 
sword from his side; and he took the sword and his golden shield 
and laid them for an offering on Baldur’s altar. And he ran to 
where Halfdan stood, and put his hand in his. The men spake 
not. Their cheeks reddened; and as they looked into each 
other’s eyes, neither man saw, for that which gathered in his 
own. 

So they were made friends; and the high-priest took off the 
curse from Frithjof. 

Then was heard a sound of music, and from behind the altar, 
lo there came a band of maidens clad in bridal white, and fore 
most among them walked Ingebjorg in an ermine robe. She 
came to Halfdan, meekly to do liis bidding in her father’s place. 
He took her hand and said, ‘My sister !' and he took Frithjof’s 
hand and said, ‘My brother!’ then placed them hand in hand. 
The old priest lifted up his hands and blessed Frithjof and 
Ingebjorg in Baldur’s name, and the temple was lightened all 
about with the shining of the god. 



Crcftir the §trong. 


L THE WINNING OF THE SHORT SWORD. 

Grey old Asmund had his homestead and farm-land at Hiarg io 
Iceland. His elder son Atli was good natured and well-spoken, 
so that most men liked him; but Grettir the younger sou was a 
fro ward boy, chary of speech and mischievous in his play; his 
father cared little for him because of his unruliness, but his 
mother Asdis loved him well. Grettir was slow of growth; at 
ten years old he was stout-built but short of stature for his age; 
his hair was red : his face broad and much freckled. Many were 
the scurvy tricks that he served his father in his boyhood. 
Being set to tend the geese, he twisted all their necks. And 
one day being told to rub his father’s back before the fire he 
caught up a spiked wool-comb from off a seat and harrowed it 
up and down old Asmund’s shoulder blades. Asmund danced 
up on his feet, mad wroth, and cried, ‘ Thou good for nothing, 
foolhardy brat! What shall I do with thee 1 ’ ‘ Give me a man’s 

task, not a milksop’s,’ answered Grettir. * Well, then,’ said his 
father, ‘go out upon the mountains and tend the horses. Among 
them is Keingala, the weatherwise dun mare. Keep an eye on 
her; so shalt thou know when to turn the horses out and when 
to keep them under cover; for when Keingala will not stay out 
to graze a storm will surely follow.’ ‘ That is manly work,’ said 
Grettir, ‘ but I shall put little faith in the mare.’ 

So the boy went out upon the mountain-neck to watch the 
horses. But about Yule-tide, when the snow lay on the ground 
and the wind was stinging cold, Grettir’s limbs grew numbed 
and bitten; for he was but ill-clad and little hardened to the 
frost. There was scarcely a bite of grass for the horses; yet 
Keingala would go out early every morning, no matter how 
rough the weather, and idle about in the windiest i)lace she 
could find, grubbing the scanty herbage; and there was no 
getting her home before nightfall. Then Grettir thought that 



401 


Grettir the Strong". 

he would cure her of this trick. So very early one morning he 
came to the stable and found Keingala champing away at her 
fodder just as though she was not always eating the whole day 
long. Grettir leapt on her back and set to work with a sharp 
knife to flay the mare. Keingala kicked and bounded about the 
stable; but Grettir mastered her, and though twice she flung 
him off he flayed her hide in a strip from wither to flank. Then 
he set open the stable doors and drave the horses out to pasture. 
Keingnla browsed about, then bit at her back, then browsed 
again; but finding it perilous cold, trotted back to stable long 
before noon. Grettir drave all the other horses under cover, 
locked the stable doors, and came back to the house. 

‘ What ails now V said Asmund. ‘ Eough weather is coming, 
I trow,’ said Grettir,- ‘ for Keingala will not bide out to graze.’ 
‘ Aye,’ answered his father, ‘ we shall have a storm to-d^ay.’ But 
never a storm came. The next day Grettir drave the mare out 
again, but not being able to endure the cold she soon came into 
the stable, and Grettir went home to sit by the fire. But the 
day went by and there was no storm. ‘ This is passing strange,’ 
said Asmund; ‘ the mare never deceived me heretofore.’ And 
next morning he went himself with Grettir to turn the horses 
out. But when he began to stroke the mare and the skin came 
off beneath his hand, he was the maddest man, and he called his 
son every ill name that came to his tongue. Grettir said naught, 
but stood and grinned. 

When Asmund told Grettir’s mother of these things she said, 
* Poor lad. Whose fault is it '1 Thou seest how he turns out 
everything he does, and yet thou settest him to work. Who 
then is to blame ? ’ So for all that, and many such like mis¬ 
chievous deeds, his mother Asdis contrived to keep the peace 
betwixt his father and him. 

As Grettir grew up he waxed very strong and big of body; 
but he was always short for his age, though stout and well-knit 
together. For a while he had not skill to turn his great strength 
to account; but as he began to mix with older lads in wrestling 
games it was plainly seen that he had more might than most 
men. 

Asmund had been wont to ride year by year to the Thing, with 
his friend Thorkel who ruled Waterdale; but one year when 
Thorkel came to fetch him Asmund pleaded that he was grown 
too old for wajffaring. Then said Thorkel, ‘ Let Atli go instead.’ 
But Asmund answered, ‘ I cannot spare him from the farm-work, 
for he is of use to me; Grettir will do nothing for his victuals^ 

gc 


402 Poptilar Romances of the Middle Ages, 

but he has some wit; maybe he can take my place in setting 
forth the laws. Let him go with thee.’ So Grettir rode forth 
with Thorkel and his men. 

On their way over the moors they laid them down to sleep one 
night, leaving their horses to graze about with saddles on. Next 
morning Grettir found that his horse had been rolling, for the 
saddle was slipped round under the horse’s belly, and the meal- 
bag, which he had left strapped to the saddle, was gone. One of 
Til orkel’s house-carles, by name Skeggi, also missed his meal-bag 
in like manner; and after they had both searched some while 
about the moor Skeggi picked up a bag which he said was his. 
However that might be, Grettir claimed it and would have it. 
So they fell to wrestling about the bag, and Skeggi getting the 
worst of it drew his axe and smote at Grettir; but Grettir caught 
the axe by the handle as it came down, wrested it away, and 
drave it into Skeggi’s brain. Then he took up the meal-bag, and 
rode after his fellows. Skeggi was missed presently from the 
company; and when some asked Grettir what was become of 
him, he said that he had seen the man lying on the moor with 
an axe in his head, and he trowed some rock-troll had done it. 
Howbeit to Thorkel he told all about the fray. Thorkel said, 
‘ This has fallen out badly, for Skeggi came of good kindred ; 
nevertheless I will do all I may for thee. But consider now 
whether thou wilt still go to the Thing and take the chance of 
matters or turn back home.’ Grettir said he would go to the 
Thing; and the end of it was that Skeggi’s kindred made a 
lawsuit, and Grettir was doomed to three years’ outlawry and a 
fine. Thorkel paid up the fines for him, but Grettir had to go 
abroad. Yet he took it lightly enough, and on his w'ay home 
from the Thing, when he came to Sledgetiill he caught up a great 
rock in his hands and flung it down upon the grass. There it 
lies to this day. Folk call it Grettir’s Heave, and wonder how 
any man could have lifted it. 

Asmund was vexed enough when Grettir came home and told 
what had befallen, and deeming his son good for nothing, he 
bade him go off with skipper Haflidi, who had a sailing-vessel 
lying up Whiteriver. He gave the lad neither victuals nor goods 
for the voyage, nor any weapon to take with him, but packed 
him off with just the clothes on his back. Grettir had few 
friends, because of his rough temper, and of those he had, when 
he wished them goodbye, not one bade him come back anymore. 
So he set out and trudged off towards Whiteriver; but he had 
not gone far along the road when his mother came running after 


Gi'ettir the Strong. 403 

him and drew a sword from beneath her cloak, saying, * I grieve 
to see thee so ill-provided, my son, but thou slialt not go quite 
empty-handed; here is the sword of Jokul my grandfather. 
Often it stood him in right good stead. Take it, and may it 
prove as trusty a friend to thee ! ’ Grettir was very glad to get 
the sword, and now recked little of his lack of goods. So having 
taken leave of his mother, he came on to Hahidi and entered the 
ship; and soon afterwards the mariners hoisted sail and stood 
out to sea. But the skipper could get him to do nothing. 
Grettir would not labour about the ship, he would not haul a 
rope, nor help shift a sail to please ariybody, neither would he 
buy himself off his work; he just went and made himself a com¬ 
fortable corner in the bow, where he could be sheltered from the 
wind; there he lay -down and would not budge. All day long 
he would lie there jeering at the shivering sailors, whpse fingers 
were blue with cold from handling the frozen ropes. By and by 
there came a storm, and the crew had to bale night and day 
without ceasing; but Grettir only lay and mocked them. The 
men got so mad that they vowed they would pitch Grettir over¬ 
board ; and in sooth they would have tried to do so, only Grettir 
turned his wit against Haflidi, and made sport of him as a 
* shouting skipper,’ which pleased the sailors greatly. But the 
storm getting worse, the ship laboured so mucb that it sprang a 
leak; and what with the sea coming in below and the waves 
dashing in above, the balers could not keep the water under. 
Then Grettir rose up lazily, and after he had stretched himself, 
came aft, and taking a cask began to bale. He filled the tubs 
and handed them up to another man to empty, but he filled them 
so full and so quickly that first two men, then four, and at last, 
as some say, eight men had to stand above to keep him going. 
So from that time the sailors held Grettir in high esteem. After 
the storm ceased there was much thick weather, and one dark 
night the ship ran on a rock off the island of Haramsey in Norway. 
Thorfinn was lord of that island, and at daybreak seeing their 
peril, he put off a boat and brought the skipper and his crew 
safe ashore, together with the most part of their goods; and in a 
little while the ship went to pieces. The mariners abode a week 
with Thorfinn, and then went away southward overland to their 
homes. 

But Grettir remained at Haramsey. Thorfinn gave him food 
and lodging, but could make little of him, Grettir being so short 
of speech and caring neither for Thorfinn’s fine table nor yet for 
his company. Grettir liked better to loiter about at his owxi 


404 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

will than to follow Thorfinn. He made friends with Aiidun, a 
farmer who lived near, and would go and idle about his farm or 
sit in the homestead and chat with him from morning till night. 
Late one evening when Audun was walking home with him, 
Grettir saw a fire break forth from a mound, and he said, ‘ What 
place is that 1 In our land night-fires upon the ground betoken 
a hid treasure.’ Audun answered, ‘That is the jbarrow of Karr 
the Old. He was Thorfinn’s father, and in his time held only a 
small farm ; but since his death he has so haunted the place that 
he has driven out all the farmers from their lands, and now the 
whole island has come to belong to Thorfinn.’ 

Grettir said very little, but next morning he got some digging 
tools together and told Audun that he was going to Karr’s 
mound. ‘ Let it alone,’ said Audun ; ‘ for Old Karr will surely 
do thee a mischief.’ Grettir said he would take his chance of 
that, and seeing him determined to go, the farmer accompanied 
him to the mound. There Grettir set to work, and digged all 
day; and it was not until nightfall that he reached the rafters 
of the barrow and began to break them through. Then Audun 
earnestly besought him not to go into the barrow to provoke the 
hatred of the wicked dead ; but Grettir heeding nothing, called 
for a rope, and letting himself down thereby, w^ent in and began 
to grope about. The place was very dark and noisome; but as 
he stumbled hither and thither over horse-bones which strewed 
the floor, he ran against the arm of a chair. Old Karr sat in that 
chair; around him were heaped his treasures of gold and silver, 
and beneath his feet for a footstool was a chest of silver. Grettir 
recked nothing for the skeleton in the chair, but gathered up the 
treasures and took away the chest from under Old Karr’s feet 
and brought them to the rope to make them fast. Suddenly he 
felt a mighty grip upon the shoulders that held him fixed. 
He knew that the barrow-dweller had wakened from his slumber, 
and he let go the treasure, and turned and wrestled with the 
hideous dead. Now up, now down, the two, close locked, reeled 
all about the floor, till the place echoed with their scuffle. Over 
the horse-bones, across the chair, each sought to trip the other 
up. In turn each fell upon his knee ; but at last, with a great 
noise, Grettir flung Old Karr upon his back, then drew his sword, 
smote off the barrow-dweller’s head, and laid it at his tliigh that 
the dead might come to life again no more. Then went Grettir 
to the rope and having fastened the treasures thereto, called out 
for Audun. But the farmer had fled, hearing the noise of the 
wrestling, and deeming Grettir certainly doomed for death. So 


G ret Hr the Strong. 405 

Grottir climbed the rope by himself, and then hauled up the 
tr(.‘asure. This he set upon his back, and hied off to Thorhnii s 
mead-hall, and there he spread out all the things upon the table 
—all save a short sword, a better weapon than he had ever seen. 
This he held still within his hand because he coveted it. When 
Thorfinn asked concerning the treasure Grettir answered, ‘ Many 
little matters happen late of an evening,’ and told how he had 
broken open Karr’s barrow and fought with him. Thorfinn 
answered, ‘No man beforetime has had will or courage to break 
open the barrow, and I blame thee not; for wealth is wasted in 
the ground ; but how came that sword within thy hand 1 ’ 
Grettir told him, and prayed that he might keep that sword for 
himself. But Thorfinn answered, ‘ It is an heirloom of the house. 
My father would never give it to me while he was alive, though 
many a time I besought him. Thou must first do some famous 
deed to win that sword.’ So Thorfinn took all the treasure to 
himself, and the sword he hung over against the head of his 
bed. 

Now at Yule-tide Thorfinn went off to the mainland, he and 
all his men, to hold Yule-feast on his farm Slys-firth, leaving no 
men folk save Grettir in his homestead. And it came to pass 
that twelve berserks which had been outlawed by Yarl Eric, 
ruler of Norway, for their misdeeds in ravishing men’s houses of 
their goods and of their womankind, trowed this to be a good 
time to plunder in the island of Haramsey, and accordingly they 
came sailing thither on Yule-eve. 

Grettir espied them come to land, and guessing pretty well 
what their errand was, went down on the beach to meet them. 
He said, ‘ Good sooth, but you are in luck’s way, my masters, 
for Thorfinn is gone with all his folk to the mainland. There is 
only the goodman’s wife and daughter at home, and there is 
plenty of ale to drink and of treasure to carry away. So come 
along with me to the homestead, and I promise you we will make 
good cheer.’ The berserks being not a little pleased to find a 
man so ready to their mind, followed Grettir into Thorfinn’s 
house. The goodwife stormed and raged at the men as they 
came swarming into her clean and new-decked hall; and she 
said to Grettir, ‘ Wretch! did not Thorfinn befriend thee 
in thy need, and save thee from shipwreck, and dost 
thou now requite his goodness by bringing robbers to 
the house 1 ’ Grettir sharply bade her hold her tongue, and 
bring the men dry clothes, and set out the tables for a feast, 
saying that they were all come to spend Yule there, and meant 


4o6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

to make merry. And Thorir, chief of the gang, spake, saying, 
‘ It is no good squealing, mistress, nor making ado. I warrant 
that amongst us we shall find a better mate for thee than Thor- 
finn, and as to thy daughter and the house-women, we will spouse 
them all before we go. We have wives in every haven.’ 

‘ Spoken like a man,’ cried Grettir, ‘ and of a truth they have 
small cause for bewailing.’ The poor scared women ran weeping 
from the hall. But Grettir went down into the cellar and fetched 
up the strongest ale; with great draughts of it he plied the 
berserks till they made din enough in the hall. Far into the 
night they kept up the carouse. They could scarce make too 
much of Grettir, and would have him swear to join their fellow¬ 
ship ; but he put off the oath till next day, saying, ^ Ale is another 
man, my masters; but if ye be like-minded to me in the morning 
I shall freely join your company.’ Now when the robbers were 
grown heavy with drink, Grettir said that he would lead them to 
Thorfinn’s cloth bower, which was moreover the place where he 
kept his treasure. Well pleased at this they all followed him to 
a strong store-room, a little without the house. Grettir took in 
a light and showed them many rare and precious things ; but the 
men were noisy in their cups, and fell to tumbling about and 
pushing one another as they looked at the treasures ; and in the 
midst of the riot Grettir slipped out and made fast the door with 
lock and bar. They, thinking that the wind had blown the door 
to, paid no heed. 

Away ran Grettir to the house and hammered at the goodwife’s 
chamber-door. She, deeming it to be one of the berserks, screamed 
out in affright. But he said, ^ Fear not, mistress, it is I. I have 
trapped them in the store-room, but there is no time now to talk. 
What weapons are there in the house V ‘ Now God be thanked,’ 
answered Thorfinn’s wife, ‘ for old Karr’s weapons are here; they 
will not fail if thine heart does not.’ Therewith she brought out 
a big barbed spear, a helmet and a byrni, and the good short 
sword. Then Grettir armed himself, and came to the store-room 
just as the berserks were hewing down the door. He ran in 
amongst them, and slew two as they were coming down the steps. 
The others caught up logs which they found upon the green, and 
defended themselves as best they might; but they soon found 
with how strong a man they had to deal. There Grettir slew 
four of them, and when the rest took to flight he followed, and 
killed two which sought shelter in a barn, and two more that 
had hidden themselves in the boat-house on the beach. The 
other two got off in the darkness, but were found next day lying 
among the rocks, dead of their wounds. 


407 


Grettir the Strong, 

When Thorfinn came home and learned how well his winter- 
guest had guarded his homestead, there was nothing wherewith 
he would not have rewarded him. Indeed by this exploit Grettir’s 
name became renowned over Norway, for the berserks had been 
the terror of every homestead in the land. But Grettir would 
have only the short sword of Old Karr; and, much as Thorfinn 
treasured it, he gave it to him freely. 


II. THE SLAYING OF BIORN. 

Now as soon as the winter was past Grettir took leave of Thor¬ 
finn, who was very loth to part with him, and entered into a ship 
and came to Salft in Heligoland, where he abode with a man of 
high birth named Thorkel. 

One of Thorkel’s chief men was called Biorn, and being a 
blustering fellow of quick temper, who moreover thought no one 
so good as himself, he and Grettir were mostly at variance about 
some matter or other. Now it happened when winter drew on, 
that a very fierce bear took to roaming abroad at night on 
Thorkehs lands, and grew so savage that he spared neither man 
nor beast. Biorn, making great boast of liis prowess, must needs 
go off to hunt this bear by himself. To that end he tracked the 
beast’s lair, and went and lay down beside it, covered with his 
shield, to await the bear’s return. The bear soon came up, roar¬ 
ing horribly, and clawed away his shield ; whereat Biorn fell in 
such affright that he took to his heels, and ran home as hard as 
he could go, followed so perilous close by Bruin that he felt the 
hot breath of him all the way, and a close shave he had of it to 
get the house door to betwixt his heels and the bear’s muzzle. 

There were plenty to jeer at Biorn over this ending to his 
exploit, and Grettir in particular with his taunts stung him not 
a little; but Biorn seemed as though he heeded nothing, having 
already made up his mind to be repaid. And a few days after, 
when Thorkel and he and half-a-dozen more went to harry the 
bear, Biorn caught up Grettir’s fur cloak and cast it into the 
bear’s den. Grettir saw it lying there, and saw the bear sit 
growling over it, but he trowed after all it was no such great 
matter. He waited till evening came, and when the rest turned 
about to go home, Grettir went along with them for some way, 
but presently made excuse that the thong of his leggings had 
come undone, and he must stop and fasten it. So he lagged 



4 o8 Poptdar Romances of the Middle Ages. 

behind till the others were out of sight, and then went off to have 
ado with the bear, not choosing to share the honour of the conflict 
with anyone. 

When he got to the den’s mouth, he slij^ped the loop of his 
short sword over his wrist and went straight in. Up rose the 
bear, and rushing to meet him, smote at Grettir with one of his 
paws; but Grettir hewed off that paw with his sword. Then the 
bear must needs lift up the other paw wherewith to strike, and 
in doing so down he dropped upon the stump, which, being 
shorter by a foot than he reckoned for, rolled hini over into 
Grettir’s arms. Howbeit the beast got upon his hind legs and 
wrestled with him as a man would do with another. Grettir 
caught him by the ears and held his head back so that he 
could not bite: the bear struggled hither and thither, and bent 
him to and fro, but none the more would Grettir leave go his 
hold on the bear’s ears; till in the tussle they rolled together out 
of the lair, and, still griping one another, fell headlong over a 
ledge of rock on to a stone-heap below. The bear being heaviest 
fell undermost, and greatly bruised he was withal. Grettir soon 
ran his short sword into the heart of him, and then taking up 
his tattered fur cloak and the bear’s paw came home to Thorkel 
who sat drinking with his men, and flung them down upon the 
table. 

Then Thorkel began to fear for Biorn’s life, and sought to 
make friends betwixt the two men, offering Grettir money to 
make the peace. But Biorn bade him put his money to better 
use, saying he was quite ready to deal with Grettir himself if 
need were, for that it behoved every block of wood to look after 
his own chips. Neither would Grettir take the money. Not¬ 
withstanding, at Thorkel’s intreaty he agreed to do nothing 
against Biorn so long as they both remained with him. 

But in the spring Grettir bade Thorkel farewell, to journey 
northward, and after wandering about all the summer, came to 
the island of Gartar, which lies in Drontheim firth. Biorn also 
went away as master of Thorkel’s ship, and made a voyage to 
England; but on his return the vessel, being driven by stress of 
weather up Drontheim firth, came ashore upon the island where 
Grettir was. Grettir soon found Biorn and renewed the quarrel, 
saying, ‘ Now, thou braggart jester, save thou wilt fight I will 
rag thy coat for thee as thou didst mine, and dub thee coward 
beside.’ And when Biorn found thtit he could not talk himself 
out of the mess, he went off with Grettir and fought, and in that 
fight got Tvounded so badly that he presently fell dead 


Grettir the Strong, 409- 

Yarl Svein heard of Biorn’s slaying from Hiarandi, brother of 
Biorn, who was in his service, and straightway summoned Grettir 
to come before him and answer for the man’s life. But Grettir 
went and saw on his way his friend Thorfinn, who, being glad to 
have opportunity to repay Grettir’s defence of his homestead, came 
with him to Yarl Svein, offering to pay the blood-money. When 
the matter came to be sifted, it was found that Biorn had pro¬ 
voked Grettir in many ways \ and what with this, and Grettir’s 
having rid the land of the berserks, whereof Thorfinn failed not 
to remind him, Yarl Svein put such a price upon the deed as he 
deemed befitting Biorn’s kindred, and Thorfinn told out the money. 
But Hiarandi would not touch the gold: he said, ‘Nay, I will 
either avenge my brother, or go after him the same road.’ So 
there being nothing else to be done, the meeting broke up. But 
from that hour Thorfinn got his kinsman Arnbiorn to. go about 
with Grettir, for fear Hiarandi might come upon him unawares. 
And a good thing it was; for one day as the two walked down a 
street, Hiarandi, who with five other fellows had hidden himself 
in a courtyard, rushed out with axe uplifted in both hands and 
drave it down at Grettir’s head; Arnbiorn had just time to thrust 
Grettir a little on one side to avoid the-blow, but as it was the axe 
came down on his shoulder and cut him a grievous wound cross¬ 
wise, against the arm-pit. Grettir drew his short sword, and in 
a moment hewed off Hiarandi’s arm ; and so smartly did he and 
Arnbiorn behave themselves, that Hiarandi and four of his men 
were quickly slain, and the other one ran off to tell the tidings to 
Yarl Svein. 

The Yarl was very angry at this new slaughter, and summoned 
the Thing, and set forth the accusation against Grettir. Thorfinn 
came up again, bringing many of Grettir’s friends; and these all 
pleaded that he might either be allowed to make atonement or to 
leave the land. Grettir also urged that he did not seek the fight, 
but that it was either his life or theirs. Then said the Yarl, ‘Far 
better it had been thine, for thou wilt always be brawling, and if 
thou livest, many a man will get his bane of thee.’ Howbeit, 
after much talk a respite was granted to Grettir till the spring, in 
order that they might hold a court to settle the matter at Tuns- 
berg, where Gunnar, brother of Biorn and Hiarandi, dwelt. 

Meanwhile Thorfinn interested himself mightily in his cause, 
and so did Bessi, son of Skald-Torfa; and when they were all 
come to Tunsberg in the spring, Grettir found his brother Thor- 
stein Dromond, who was a court owner there, and he likewise 
promised to help him. But Yarl Svein somewhat delayed his 


410 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

coming, and one day as Grettir sat drinking alone in an alehouse, 
the door was burst open and in ran Gunnar with three other 
armed men to take.vengeance on him. Grettir caught up his 
weapons and set on fiercely. He struck down two of them with 
his short sword dead upon the floor, and then rushed furiously 
upon Gunnar to drive him to the threshold. Gunnar was driven 
back because he could not withstand Grettir’s strength, but he 
backed fighting all the way, with his shield in front of him. But 
no sooner did he get to the door than Grettir slammed it on his 
hands, holding the door with his foot, so that Gunnar’s shield and 
both hands remained within the room jammed fast in the doorway 
whilst his body was without. Then Grettir lopped off the hands 
at the wrist, so that Gunnar’s shield fell within doors, and his 
body on the door-step, and straightway sallying out dealt Gunnar 
his death-blow. The fourth man fled away. 

Now when Yarl Svein came to Tunsberg and heard of this he 
was madly wroth, insomuch that a man could scarce get speech of 
him. The Thing was thronged with men, and Thorfiiin, and 
Bessi, and Thorstein Dromond said all they might, offering blood- 
money to boot, as much as the Yarl might doom. But Yarl Svein 
spake angrily saying, ‘ It is all too late to offer atonement or to 
seek respite for Grettir. Here has this man slain three brethren 
one after another, and it is idle to talk about breaking the laws 
by giving respite. It matters nothing how strong Grettir may 
be, or what friends he may have, or what he has done for the land. 
In this court all men are of equal esteem, and whatever it may 
cost we will have Grettir’s life, and nothing short of it.’ And the 
Yarl arose up and would listen to no more. 

At that Tliorfinn and Thorstein Dromond, and Bessi, and the 
rest of his friends took Grettir and went home to Thorstein’s 
court, and began to barricade the place. And when Yarl Svein 
se}\t to them to give up Grettir they said plainly they would not, 
for that he was not so greatly to blame, and one fate should befall 
them all. Thereupon the Yarl gathered his men together, and 
there would straightway have been a fight, had not men of repute 
ill the town come and prayed him not to carry the matter so far 
as to do battle with his own people and make a war which wouM 
stop no one could say where. So, by this his mind being some¬ 
what changed, an agreement was made whereby heavy fines were 
to be taken for the slayings, and Grettir was to be banished from 
Norway, and go off to Iceland. Tliorfinn cheerfully paid the 
money and p^^rted from Grettir in great friendship, giving him 
gifts of raiment for himself and caparison for his horse, and bidding 


Grettir the Strong, 411 

him come and see him whenever he came to Norway again. After 
that Grettir took ship with some chapmen, and came to his father’s 
liouse at Biarg in Iceland. 

Old Asmund had prospered in all things whereto he set his 
hand, and was become one of the greatest farm-holders in Midfirth. 
Moreover Asdis had borne him another boy, whose name was 
lllugi. But Grettir cared not to abide in the homestead ; he was 
always wandering about, getting into some brawl or other. He 
sought out his old companions who had been lads when he was a 
boy, and picked quarrels with them, from sheer desire to show 
his manhood ; and when he found that of those who used to get 
the better of him in a wrestle by reason of their elder years, not 
one could stand against him now, he waxed so overbearing that 
there was no dealing with him. He deemed himself well matched 
to fight any three men either with hand or sword, neither would 
he flee from four; but against a greater number he Would not 
fight of his own seeking. 


III. THE CURSE OF GLAM. 

Away up Waterdale was a homestead in a place called Shady 
vale. It belonged to farmer Thorhall, and the most part of it 
was grazing land, for there was no man about that part who bred 
so much live stock as he. But he never could get a shepherd to 
stop with him. It was not that Thorhall was not a liberal-handed 
master and a pleasant enough spoken man; but the place was 
haunted. One man after another took the job, but they all threw 
it up in turn, because of what they heard and saw upon the downs 
after nightfall. Nor did it rest with hearing and seeing, for many 
got badly hurt into the bargain. However, one day Skapti, the 
Law-man, met Thorhall at the Thing and said to him, ‘ I know of 
a shepherd who will stop with thee ; a big, strong man, a Swede, 
named Glam; a terribly rough and surly fellow to have to do 
with; but if thou canst only put up with his ways. I’ll answer for 
it he will keep thy sheep.’ Thorhall said he recked nothing how 
uncouth the man might be either to look at or to talk to, so long 
as he could do this. 

Not long after there came to Thorhall a great bluff man, with 
wolf-grey hair, and strange grey eyes with a queer glare in them. 
He said his name was Glam. Thorhall stared at him, and not 



412 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

without reason, for he had never seen so frightful a boor. He 
said, ‘ Wilt thou keep my sheep 1 ’ * Aye,’ said Glam, ‘ if no one 
meddles with me ; but I am apt to be rough of temper when any¬ 
wise crossed.’ Thorhall answered that he should be left to have 
his own way, but told him that the place was badly haunted. 
Glam said, ‘ Am I a man to be scared by bugbears 1 ’ Thorhall 
looked at him and said truly that he did not think he was. So 
they struck the bargain together. 

All through summer Glam watched the sheep upon the hills : 
he had a great lusty voice, and they all came running together at 
his hallo. But no one about the farm could abide him, because 
of his grulfness and ill-temper; least of all could Thorhall’s wife. 
Glam was a dreadfully ungodly wight, with some loathsome oath 
or other always in his mouth. There was a church on the farm¬ 
stead, but he shunned it like pestilence. For all that he kept 
the sheep well, and up to Yule-tide not a head w^as lost or 
strayed. 

Now though folk feast abundantly enough at Yule-tide, it is 
well known that all good Christians keep fast on Yule-eve. But 
Glam came blustering into the house as if it had been any other 
evening, and cursing all the home-folk for a pack of fools, called 
loudly for his meat. Thorhall’s wife durst not disobey him for 
the life of her, and after trying to persuade liim to fast like the 
rest, and enduring much of his ill language, she brought him out 
the food, saying moreover, ‘Thou hast done a mightily evil thing; 
take heed nothing befall thee because of it.’. Glam finished his 
meat and went out to fold the sheep upon the mountains, grumb¬ 
ling and swearing as he went. 

The day had been greatly overcast and bitterly cold, and at 
twilight a great snowstorm swept over the place. Glam never 
came home that night. When it grew late and he did hot come, 
the men about the house talked of going out to look for him; but 
it was pitch dark, and the snow-flakes fell so thick that a man 
could scarce see his hand before his face. Morning broke; still 
Glam did not come. Then they all made a party and fared abroad 
after him. They saw the sheep all scattered and strayed about 
the mountains; some dead, some huddled together against the 
rocks for shelter from the storm. But it was long before they 
found any trace of Glam. Late on in the day they came upon 
mighty foot-prints, big as cask-heads; these they tracked to a 
steep clifif side, whereabout the ground was all tramped down as 
though a great scuffle had gone on there. Bocks had been up¬ 
rooted, earth and snow were churned to mud. which had frozen 


413 


Grettir the Strong. 

and marked the stampings of the wrestlers. Glam lay there, 
dead and blue and swollen, his wide grey eyes glaring horribly. 
Putting this and that together, they deemed that the haunter of 
Shady-vale had fought with Glam and killed him, but did not get 
off without mortal wounds, whereof he doubtless must have died, 
for he haunted that place no more. Glam looked so evil in his death- 
sleep that the men were adread of him; nevertheless they went 
and fetched horses and harnessed them to his body to drag it to 
the church. But the horses could not stir it that way, for all the 
road lay downhill. Another time the men came bringing the 
priest with them; but that day, though they searched from 
morning till night about the place, they could not find Glam’s 
body at all. The morning after, coming without the priest, they 
found the body, and the horses failing again to move it, the house- 
carls strove no more to bring it to the church, but made a cairn 
and buried it where it lay. 

It was not long after Yule that the folk found that Glam did 
not rest quiet in his grave. He was seen of many about the farm 
in the dusk of evenings, and he took to riding the house-roofs at 
night fit to break them in. If a man had an errand after dark 
across Shady-vale, no matter how pressing, he would leave it till 
morning rather than venture in Glam’s way. The hauntings 
lasted all the winter, but as summer drew on they ceased. Thorhall 
got a new shepherd that autumn from a distant part, a strong 
man called Thorgaut, who had the strength of two, but next 
Yule-day he was found lying against Glam’s cairn with his neck 
broken; and the hauntings grew worse than ever. One morning 
when the housewife went to milk the cows in the byre she heard 
such terrible noises and cracklings hard by, that she ran back 
screaming for fear ; and straightway the whole herd took fright 
and began goring one another. The neat-herd went out to them 
but never came back; and when they found him he was lying on 
his back in the cow-house, with his neck broken, and all the cows 
were dead. Day by day Glam killed cattle and sheep and horses. 
Things came to such a pass that at last Thorhall would abide no 
longer on the farm, but gathered together all he durst go after, 
and fled away to spend the winter with his friends. Whatsoever 
live thing he left, that Glam slew; and every horse and hound 
that crossed the place met the same fate. 

Next spring, as soon as the sun got power. Glam lay in quiet 
and Thorhall came back to his farm ; but it was as much as he 
could do to get servants to abide with him; and towards winter 
the hauntings began again as bad as before. A girl on the farm 


414 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

was set upon and killed; and what to do Thorhall could not 
tell 

Now Grettir heard by chance of these strange doings, and 
making up his mind to search the matter out, set off and rode to 
Thorhall-stead. Thorhall gave him a hearty welcome, but bade 
him look well to his horse if he treasured it, for that none could 
keep a horse many days upon his farm. However, Grettir said 
that horses were plenty enough, and he would risk that. So they 
locked up the horse in a strong stable and went to bed. But 
that night Glam did not ride the roofs nor break open the doors, 
and at daylight the horse was safe and sound. The next morning 
it was the same; and Grettir began to think the tale of the 
hauntings an idle one; but the day after, when they arose and 
went out they found the stable shattered, and the horse lying 
dead outside the door, with every bone in his body broken. Then 
said Grettir, ‘ It is not too much to ask, as the price of my horse, 
for a sight of the man who did this.’ So when night came he 
took a rug with him, and came to the stable, and laid him down 
in his clothes upon a locker, wrapping him from head to foot in 
the rug, but leaving an opening for his eyes. There was one 
strong beam left at the end of the seat, and against this he set 
both feet. All the rest of the place was a wreck, and the 
splintered door was only held in its place by broken fastenings. 
There was a light burning, and Grettir lay awake, but for a long 
time heard nothing. A while after midnight there came a great 
noise, a sound as of some one riding the roof-tree and digging his 
heels against the rafters till they cracked again; and the thatch 
came tumbling down by armfuls. Presently Glam came down off 
the roof and thrust the door open. He was monstrous big, and 
thick-set withal. When he stretched himself up his head reached 
above the eaves. He stood there glaring about with his awful 
grey eyes; then he took the cross-beam of the house in his hands 
and shook it till the crazy, broken stable rocked. Grettir lay 
quite still. By and by. Glam, seeing a bundle lying on the seat, 
caught hold of the coverlid and pulled it. Grettir would not 
move, but set his feet faster against the beam and griped the rug 
in his hands. Harder pulled Glam, but the thing would not come 
away. Then he put both hands to it and dragged with all his 
might, and drew Grettir upright from off the seat. But Grettir 
held on to the rug till it rent asunder between them. While 
Glam wondered who it might be that could pull so hard against 
him, Grettir ran in beneath his hands, clutched him round the 
middle, and bent himself with all his strength to double him 


415 


Grettir the Stro7ig 

backwards. But Glam was stronger than he knew of, and stood 
it like a tree. Back he bore Grettir to the seat, and thence from 
place to place, till every beam and panel of the house was broken 
with their struggling. Then Glam sought to drag him to the door 
and out into the open. Against this Grettir strove with all his 
might, well knowing that outside he had no chance. But in vain 
he knit himself back and bowed the thrall’s great body towards 
him. He felt that he was going, and could not save himself; he 
gat no foothold, and was being dragged yard by yard towards the 
doorway. Notliing could save him. Then he thought that if he 
must go it should be wdth a rush; and, from pulling against 
Glam, he suddenly drave forward his hardest and hurled him reel¬ 
ing back the way he was going. Unprepared for this, Glam 
staggered backward-with a run, his head smiting the lintel of the 
door, and breaking the roof away, but the door-sill tripped his 
heels, and down he fell upon his back without the house, Grettir 
atop of him. 

Just then the moon sailed up from behind a black sheet of 
cloud, and shone upon Glam’s eyes. Hideously they glared up 
at the moon, and Grettir was dismayed for the only time in all 
his life. He could not draw the short sword for the horrible 
staring of Glam’s eyeballs. 

Glam said, ‘ Little shall this encounter profit thee. For thy 
strength was not near come to the full, and would have increased 
twofold; but since thou hast met me it shall wax no greater. 
Moreover, ill luck shall cleave to thee in all things. Thou shalt 
become an outlaw, and a lonesome man; and in thy lonesomeness 
I lay this curse on thee—ever in the darkness to behold these 
eyes of mine. They shall follow thee whithersoever thou goest, 
and there shall be no hiding from them. That shall make it 
hard for thee to dwell alone. That shall lure thee to thy death.’ 

When he had thus spoken a cloud scudded past the moon and 
hi 1 it; the spell that had lain on Grettir fell from off him; he 
drew forth the short sword and therewith hewed off Glam’s head, 
and set it over against his thigh that thereafter the ghost might 
walk no more. 

Then Thorhall, who had been watching afar off but durst not 
come nigh, came up and thanked God and Grettir heartily for 
this deliverance from the unclean spirit. And the two men took 
Glam’s body and kindled a fire, and burned it to ashes, and they 
wrapped the ashes in the skin of a beast, and buried them in a 
place apart from the ways of men or cattle. 

boon after that Grettir took his departure, loaded with presents 


i^.i 6 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

which Thorhall gave him, and rode off to Biarg. There he passe! 
the winter at his home. Bub since that affray he was grown 
restless and shorter of temper than heretofore. He feared to be 
in the dark, and durst not go forth alone at night because of 
Glam’s eyes which fastened on him. And from that time it 
passed into a proverb concerning them which see strange and 
horrible things in the darkness, that Glam has looked upon them, 
or that they have Glam sight. 


IV. GRETTIR’S ILL-LUCK. 

There lived in Eamfirth an exceeding strong man, named 
Thorbiorn Oxmain. He had a kinsman and namesake, a sailor, 
called Thorbiorn the Tardy, who had a very ill-natured tongue 
which was always wagging. Grettir bore no good blood towards 
either of them; for some while before Thorbiorn Oxmain had 
come up with his men and parted him and Kormak in a fight 
of some half dozen a side on Eamfirth-neck; and ever since 
Thorbiorn the Tardy had jeered him behind his back for giving 
over after blood had been shed, the more so because one of the 
men that fell in the fray was his brother Atli’s house-carle, and 
no vengeance was taken for him. But time went on, and Thor¬ 
biorn the Tardy still made his jibes. Grettir, though he heard 
of it, cared not to seek out a man whom all knew for a braggart; 
and living far apart they had not met. 

Now in the spring Grettir made up his mind to go over to 
Norway ; for tidings came how Yarl Svein had fled the country, 
and lidw Olaf the Saint, who ruled in his stead, gave right good 
welcome at his court to men of prowess; beside which there was 
some sort of kindred between them, for Grettir’s great-grand¬ 
father, Onund Treefoot, and Olaf’s great-grandmother, Gudbiorg, 
were brother and sister. Many other men were likewise going 
to see how things would fare with them at King Olaf’s hands. 

There had never been over much love at any time betwixt his 
father and himself; yet Grettir seemed very loth to leave him 
now, notwithstanding his mind was set on going. For old 
Asmund was grown decrepit and bed-ridden; he had given up 
tending the farm, and had committed that and all other matters 
about the homestead into the hands of his eldest son Atli. 
Wherefore it was with no light heart that Grettir took leave of 
the old man. But he bade farewell to his father and to Atli, 



Grettir the Strong, 417 

and his young brother Illugi, and made his way to Goose-ere in 
Eyjafirth, where, having taken a passage by the next ship, he 
tarried with other folk waiting for it to sail. 

Now Tliorbiorn the Tardy also had a mind to go to Norway, 
and though many sought to hinder him from going in the same 
vessel with Grettir he heeded nothing, but made ready at the 
last minute, and came down to Goose-ere just as the ship was 
ready for sea. 

One and another gathered round him on the beach to ask for 
tidings; but Grettir kept himself apart. Thorbiorn eyed him 
and laughed, and said to them which stood about, ‘ Tidings % 
Good sooth, there is naught to tell of any account. Old Asraund 
down in Biarg is dead, and high time too. Old dotard! Would 
you ask of what 1 ' Good friends, the chamber smoked, and 
smothered him in bed. I pray you laugh. A chartipion dead 
of chamber smoke 1 ’ 

Nevertheless none joined his merriment. They said, ‘ If 
Asmund of a truth be dead, a good and worthy man if* dead 
But as for thee, see to it and beware lest Grettir hear thy words. 
Thorbiorn laughed them to scorn, saying, ‘What reck I of Grettir? 
He must wield a sword more deMy than he did at Bamfirth-neck 
before I shape my words to please his mind.^ 

But Grettir had heard it all, and now walked up to him. He 
said, ‘ Thorbiorn, I will foretell thee a little thing. Thou wilt 
die neither of chamber smoke, jior yet of old age. But now foi 
this time take back thy words, for I care not to have to do with 
him that mocketh at the helpless.’ Then began Thorbiorn to 
brag aloud of his valour, daring Grettir, moreover, to fight, until, 
being taunted very sore, Grettir drew his sword and hewed at 
him. Only one blow he struck. Thorbiorn flung up his arm to 
guard it, but old Karr’s blade flashed through his wrist and 
through his neck, and hand and head fell down upon the beach. 
None of the folk deemed other than that the quarrelsome wight 
had gotten his just reward. 

Then they all went on shipboard and sailed across the sea to 
Hordaland which lies in the south of Norway. But when they 
were come ashore Grettir heard how King Olaf was gone up to 
Drontheim; so he took ship again in a trading vessel northward 
bound to go thither. 

They had hard weather, and the snow froze and fell stinging 
cold upon them ; and it was so when they were come off a haven 
against Stead, that they had not wherewithal to make a fire. 
Then they lay to/ and being starved with cold, they watched 

2 D 


418 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

wistfully a homestead on the shore where a bright blaze flickered 
day and night. And at last Grettir’s shipmates said to him, 

‘ Thou art the strongest of us ; wilt thou go ashore and bring fire 
aboard^’ He answered, ‘Aye, I will go; but see to it that ye 
all stand by me, whatever come of it.’ And they said to him, 

* Deem us not so shameful as not to uphold thee in aught thou 
doest for our sakes.’ 

Then Grettir threw off his clothes and slipped a rope about his 
middle, for those on shipboard to pay out, and taking with him a 
cask wherein to bring the fire, he leapt overboard and swam to 
shore. 

The house they had seen was a house of refuge, built upon the 
strand for the shelter of mariners. The sons of Thorir of Garth, 
a man of great esteem in Iceland, had been driven into the haven 
by the stress of weather, and were carousing there with a dozen 
of their crew. 

Grettir saw the house and ran in. There was a great fire 
burning in the midst, and all about was straw which had been 
housed there out of the snow. But Thorir’s sons, seeing a great 
strong naked man, with icicles hanging from his hair and beard, 
trowed that he was a troll or some unearthly wight, and so set 
on and smote him with the first things wdiich came to hand, 
which were the fire-brands from off the hearth. 

Grettir recked nothing of their disturbance, nor would he fight 
with the men; he only wanted fire. He put the blows from off 
him as best he might, snatched a fire-brand from out one man’s 
hand, and made his way back to the ship. When he got aboard 
he looked towards the shore and saw no house, but only a great 
pile of flame; the straw had kindled in the scuffle and burned 
the house, and Thorir’s sons, and all the men that were therein. 
The mariners seeing this shunned Grettir for the rest of the voy¬ 
age ; and at every place whereat the vessel stopped they noised 
abroad how they were not guilty of the mishap, but tluit Grettir 
had done it; until at last they put in shore, drave him from their 
ship, and would have no more truck with him. They told the 
people that Grettir had burned Thorir’s sons in the refuge-house, 
and straightway turned him adrift and sailed away. So the folk 
on shore looked on him askance and would have naught to do 
with him. Grettir, caring for no man, wandered on alone to 
Drontlieim to meet the king. 

As Olaf sat in the council on a certain day Grettir came, 
making obeisance before the king. Olaf knew him for a kins¬ 
man, and beinor well minded towards him said, ‘ Art thou Grettii 


419 


Grettir the Strong, 

the StrongV Grettir answered, ‘So men have called me. But 
my strength availeth nothing to deliver me from an evil slander 
laid upon me, wherefrom I pray the king to give me quittance/ 
The king said, ‘ I have heard the tale told of thee; and I do not 
think that of thine own will thou didst burn these men. Neither 
do I see why thou shouldst not cast the slander from thee/ 
Then Grettir declaring himself ready to do whatsoever might 
hold good in law, the king appointed a day whereon he might 
clear liimself by the ordeal of bearing hot iron. 

Grettir, well pleased thereat, betook to fasting to prepare him¬ 
self for the trial, and when the day was come the bishop and 
much people gathered to the church, and the iron was made hot 
for him to bear in his hand. Greatly marvelled the folk to see 
his muscle, and the cords upon his limbs. But as Grettir walked 
through the midst of the church, there started up from the church 
floor a boy of strange countenance, who pointed a finger at him 
and wagged his head, saying, ‘ Strange times these when every 
thief may free himself by calling for a trial! Are there ordeals, 
forsooth, for a man who burnt a half score guileless folk because 
they had fire and he had none 'I ’ Then Grettir could not with¬ 
hold his anger, but clenched his fist and smote the boy behind 
the ear so that he fell upon the floor. But though they saw him 
fall, the folk which pressed forward could not find the boy’s 
body; for it was an evil spirit raised up for Grettir’s hurt. And 
there arose a great clamour in the church, insomuch that it was 
told the king, ‘ Grettir is smiting all about him.’ And the king 
came forth and said, ‘ Grettir, strength like thine is given to few 
men, but of a truth thine ill-luck passeth all things. Blame 
thine own heedlessness that this trial is stayed. I do not con¬ 
demn thee; maybe thou didst not burn these folk, but I cannot 
have to do with so unlucky a man. Go away home. I will not 
hinder thee from tarrying in Norway through the winter, but I 
will see thy face no more; and in the spring get thee back to 
Iceland, for after this I can have no more to do with thee. I am 
sorry; but there is no dealing with ill-luck.’ 

Grettir was very down-hearted thereat; but in nowise despair¬ 
ing, he determined to go and seek out his brother Thorstein 
Dromond. On his way he fell in with a rich bonder named 
Einar, who had a wife and a fair daughter called Gyrid; and 
Grettir abode at his house through Yule-tide. One day in Yule 
ther-^ came certain berserks to Einar, chief of them Snoekoll, a 
big strong man, who challenged him to fight lor his women. 
Einar was^ old and past fighting, arid Snoekoll stood before the 


420 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

door railing at him, and threatening him with meny foul words, 
Snoekoll set his shield on end upon the ground while he talked, 
restix.g his mouth upon the rim of it. Grettir heard him, and 
came forth; he lifted his foot, and catching the tail of the shield 
with his toe, kicked it so hard that the shield flew up and reft 
SnoekolFs jaw asunder and tare his throat open. Then he drew 
the short sv/ord and smote off the berserk’s head. Seeing this, 
the other berserks fled. 

When Yule was over Grettir travelled east to Tunsberg, and 
dwelt awhile with his brother Thorstein Dromond, and much 
good-fellowship they held together. One morning as the two 
brethren lay in their beds, Thorstein awoke and saw Grettir’s 
great sinewy arms lying outside the coverlid ; and when Grettir 
waked he said, ‘ Brother, I deem it nowise strange that men can¬ 
not withstand thee, for never have I seen arms so huge as thine. 
Pity it is they were not more slender and more lucky withal.’ 
Then Thorstein bared his arms and laid them alongside Grettir’s. 
And seeing the gaunt thin arms of his brother, Grettir laughed 
loud and long. ‘ What arms ! A pair of tongs ! Sure, Thor¬ 
stein, thou hast scarce a woman’s strength.’ Thorstein answered 
him, ‘ The day will come when thy great arms shall avail thee 
naught; but these lank arms of mine shall be strong enough to 
avenge thee.’ 

While Grettir tarried with Thorstein in Norway many ill 
things befell in Iceland. And first of all his father, the grey old 
Asmund, grew feebler every day, till, finding death draw nigh, 
he gathered his sons Atli and Illugi, and all the home-folk round 
his bedside. To Atli he gave his farm and all his goods, making 
him ruler of the household in his stead, charging the folk to obey 
him in all things. And he laid his hands on the head of Illugi 
his youngest-born and blessed him, saying that one day he should 
become a man of great prowess. Then he thought of Grettir, 
who was far away, and he said, ‘ His life will be restless as a 
rolling wheel. A mighty man is my son, yet will his might be 
of little service to his kindred, for he will scarce find it suffice to 
deliver him from his own troubles.’ A little after that Asmund 
died, and was buried in a church which he had built on the 
homestead. 

Now Thorbiorn Oxmain was mad wroth to hear how his kins¬ 
man Thorbiorn the Tardy had been slain by Grettir; and since 
Grettir was out of the way, he determined to be avenged upon 
his brother Atli. To that end he made a league with Gunnar 
and Thorgeir the sons of Thorir of the Pass, who were likewise 


421 


Grettir the Strong, 

ill-friends with Atli; for they were in that fray on Eamfirth-neck, 
wlien Atli’s house-carle was slain \ and he prevailed upon them, 
together with six other men, to go and waylay Atli as he came 
home from a, journey. Atli had but five folk with him, and 
when he espied Gunnar and his fellows, he would not take it 
that their errand was aught but peaceable, and so bespake them 
with the same gentleness which it was his wont to use to all men. 
When he had welcomed them all and asked their tidings, he 
turned to Gunnar, saying, ‘There is that house-carle of mine 
which fell in the strife at Eamfirth-neck by thine hand. I have 
made no stir about it hitherto, well knowing that when I should 
next meet thee thou wouldst offer atonement. Is it not sol’ 
Gunnar answered, ‘ It ill befits the men of Biarg to talk about 
atonement, with the blood of Thorbiorn on their hands. We are 
here to take our vengeance for that slaying, and we ‘heed no 
other suit.’ Atli said, ‘ Your pardon, but I am not the man to 
answer in that cause, neither art thou a suitor in it.’ ‘ But I 
choose to take up the suit, and thou shalt answer for it,’ said 
Gunnar; and therewith he cried on his men, saying, ‘Lay on 
stoutly and fear nothing, for Grettir is not with tliem now.’ 
Then, there being no help for it, Atli drew his sword, and though 
they were but six to eight, he and his folk defended themselves 
so well that they presently slew Gunnar and Thorgeir, and three 
of their fellows. They made peace with the other three and let 
them go. 

When Thorbiorn Oxmain knew how the affray ended, he took 
up the suit for the slaying of the sons of Thorir of the Pass, and 
it was tried before two wise judges at the Thing. Atli had many 
friends, and was known to be a peace-loving man ; it was shown 
moreover that he was attacked and fought only to defend himself. 
Wherefore he was adjudged only to pay half fines. So far as 
words went the peace was made, but the judgment rankled in 
Thorbiorn’s mind. 

Thorbiorn had a somewhat unruly house-carle named Ali, self- 
willed and sullen of temper; and Thorbiorn worried him greatly 
about his work, whereas the man would only work in his own 
way. When Thorbiorn found fault with him he got idle and 
would do nothing at all, till, being always at loggerheads, Thor¬ 
biorn one day beat him soundly, and sent him about his business. 
After that the man came over to Biarg and asked Atli for work. 
Atli said to him, ‘ Are you not one of Thorbiorn’s men 1 Go back 
to him. I have plenty of workmen.’ The carle told how Thor- 
bioru had turned him aw^ay and besought earnestly to be taken 


422 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

on, for that he had no food and no friends, and knew not where 
to go. Pitying his strait, Atli gave him work, and the man was 
grateful; and getting only kind words from his new master, he 
worked so hard and so well that soon there was not a better 
labourer upon the farm. However, in the summer, Thorhiorn, 
hearing how well the man was going on, got fretful, and rode off 
to Atli at Biarg, saying, ‘ Atli, thou art always working some 
despite against me. Why hast thou harboured this man of mine? 
I meddle not with thy workmen; give him up to me.’ Atli 
answered, ^ I understood that thou hadst cast him out. But if he 
is thy man take him, I want him not.’ Howbeit the house-carle 
would not go back with Thorbiorn, but ran into the house and 
hid himself, and prayed that he might not be given up. There¬ 
upon Atli said, ^ I will not hinder thee from taking him, but he 
shall go with thee of his own free will or not at all. I will not 
have him dragged from my house.’ Then Thorbiorn said, ‘ Mark 
you well, that man is mine; and I forbid him to work here. 
Next time I come after him perchance it may be in no friendly 
way.’ Atli made answer that threats would not frighten him— 
he was mostly to be found at home, and he had a welcome for a 
friend and a sword for a foe. With that Thorbiorn rode off. On 
a wet day at the beginning of hay-harvest, when all Atli’s men 
were out mowing, Thorbiorn came riding up to the door with his 
harness on and a barbed spear in his hand. It was about noon¬ 
tide, and there were no folk in the house save Atli and his 
mother Asdis. Thorbiorn smote upon the door, and then stole 
on one side and hid himself Atli heard the knock, and thinking 
that it must be one of the farm folk with an errand, came to the 
door and opened it, but seeing how the rain poured down he went 
not out, but stood with a hand on either door-j)ost peering all 
about. He saw no man. Suddenly Thorbiorn rushed out with 
his spear in both hands and smote it through the midst of him. 
Atli gave a groan and fell forward. Dead he lay before his 
doorway, and the rain rained on him there. Folk mourned for 
Atli, for he was good and wise and gentle. There was no more 
mowing done that day. Ali the house-carle came and wept 
bitterly, reproaching himself for his master’s death. Asdis the 
house-wife sobbed and moaned, tearless, as the aged do. They 
buried Atli in the church upon the homestead, beside his father. 
But no blood-money was taken for him, since it was for Grettir 
to take up the blood-suit if he listed. 

But this was not all that happened while Grettir was away. 
Tidings came to Thorir of Garth how his sons had been burned 


423 


Grettir the Strong, 

at Stead, and he straightway rode off to the Thing, seeking 
vengeance. He would take neither money nor blood for atone¬ 
ment, but claimed that Grettir should be made an outlaw through¬ 
out the land. There was none to speak for Grettir, neither any 
that knew the rights of this house-burning. Skapti the Lawman 
said it was not right wise for any to put their hands to a judgment 
until Grettir’s story had first been heard. But Thorir w^as a 
man of might, a friend of King Olaf; Bishop Sigurd had hallowed 
his ship; most men befriended him; all feared him. So it fell 
out that when he pushed matters to the hardest none dared 
gainsay him, and the end of it was that Grettir was made an 
outlaw, and a price set on his head, the same as was wont to be 
done with the worst of robbers and vagabonds. 

Now at the end of the summer Grettir took leave of his brother 
Thorstein Dromond. In great friendship they parted, and they 
never met together more. So when Grettir landed in Iceland he 
learned these heavy tidings ; first, that his father was dead ; next, 
that his brother, the head of the household, was slain; and last, 
that he himself was outlawed, without a hearing, for a deed he 
had never done. Yet he took his troubles lightly enough. He 
said, ‘ These are heavy mishaps, but maybe there shall come a 
time when other folk shall find themselves more forlorn than I 
am this day/ 


V. THE HUNTING OF THE OUTLAW. 

SOMEWHILE Grettir abode in the ship, till he could get a horse to 
his mind. Presently he fell in with a merry fellow named Svein, 
who had a famous black mare very swift of foot, called Saddle- 
fair. Grettir stole the mare one night from Svein’s home-field 
and bridled her, threw a black cape over his clothes to disguise 
himself, and rode away. He never drew rein till he came to 
Grim Thorhallson’s house. Grim was one of the feix which fought 
with Atli against Gunnar and Thorgeir, and learning who it was, 
he welcomed Grettir freely enough, though in some fear of 
harbouring an outlaw. Svein missed his mare, and followed her 
from place to place till he tracked her to Grim’s house. But 
Grettir told him a horse was not worth quarrelling about, and 
they had better be good friends; and the farmer, learning vdK> it 
was that had taken her, made no more ado, but came in and 
staj/ed that night at Grim’s; and a merry time he and Grettir 



424 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

.nade of it together, parting next morning in the best of fellow¬ 
ship, and Grettir kept the mare. 

Afterwards Grettir rode over to the old farm at Biarg, and for 
fear of being seen, came there at dead of night. All were asleep 
save his mother, who was a light sleeper, and lay long awake. 
She heard his footfall and went down and let him in. She told 
him all the trouble that had come upon their house. Grettir said 
that he knew it all full well, but bade her be of good cheer, for 
that he would either better or worsen things before long. For a 
while Grettir abode in the farmstead, none knowing of it save the 
folk about the house, and they kept their counsel. 

Now it came to pass at the end of hay-harvest, when Thorbiorn 
Oxmain and his son Arnor were down in the home-field binding 
the hay, that they espied a man ride over the meadow bearing 
sword and spear. Thorbiorn said to his son, ‘ Of a truth that is 
Grettir, Asmnnd’s son. Wherefore leave the sheaves and let us 
meet him stoutly.’ Thorbiorn’s shield and sword lay among the 
hay. The lad bore a hand-axe at his side. Thorbiorn took up 
his weapons, saying, ‘ I will meet Grettir in front; do thou go 
round and come behind him, and drive thine axe with both hands 
betwixt his shoulders.’ 

Grettir got off his horse, and taking his spear loosed the socket- 
nail which held the spear-head to the shaft, so that Thorbiorn 
should not cast the spear back again. Then he drew nigh and 
flung the spear ; but the socket being looser than he knew of, the 
spear swerved in its flight, and the head fell down off the shaft 
upon the field. Thorbiorn ran upon Grettir and began to assail 
him furiously, that the lad might the better steal up behind his 
back. But Grettir chanced to turn his head, and seeing how 
things were, contrived to keep himself somewhat free to turn 
about, and when the lad was come within reach he swung the 
short sword round and drave it down into his skull. Then Thor¬ 
biorn smote at him, but Grettir put the blow aside with his shield, 
and lifting his hand clave Thorbiorn’s shield in two, and the 
sword-point entered his brain ; so Thorbiorn fell down dead. 

Grettir sought all about the meadow for his spear-head, but 
could not find it; neither was it found till within the memory of 
old folk now living, by which token it is certainly known that 
Thorbiorn fell in that place, and not in Midfit, as some were wont 
to say. And for that cause the place is called Spear-mead to this 
day. 

After this slaying Grettir went home to Biarg and told his 
mother how he had avenged Atli; but fearing to abide there 


G ret Hr the Strong, 425 

longer lest he should bring trouble on her, he fared abroad, and 
sought shelter with one and another as best he could. 

Now Thorod Drapna-stump took up the blood-suit for Thor- 
biorn, and with a great company of Eamfirth men hunted Grettir 
hither and thither, so that he was hard put to it to find harbourage 
anywhere; and when any took him in for a night or two, they 
never left off praying him to begone. At last the Eamfirthers 
having hunted him as far as Samstead, heard that he was departed 
out of their borders, and gave over pursuit. Grettir came on to 
Eeek-knolls, to the house of one named Thorgils, a bountiful man, 
who already sheltered two foster-brothers, Tliorgeir and Thormod, 
rough men and fierce, who had been outlawed long ago for high¬ 
handed slayings. Thorgils bade Grettir welcome to food and 
lodging provided he could dwell with the foster-brothers without 
strife. 

In Olaf s isles, some way out in the firth, was a great ox belong¬ 
ing to Thorgils, which he was fain to have home against Yule¬ 
time. Grettir went with the two brothers to fetch the ox. They 
sailed over in a very heavy ten-oared boat, but the wind being 
fair the weight of the craft mattered little as there was no rowing. 
When they were come to the isle, the two brothers asked Grettir 
which he would do, fetch the ox or mind the boat; and since he 
cared not whether of the twain he did, they left him with the 
boat, for the surf ran ^rong about the eoast. Howbeit Grettir 
went into the water, and clipping the boat amidships with his 
hands held her fast; and though the waves broke over his 
shoulders and the boat tossed and beat madly about, Grettir 
would not let go his hold. Thorgeir and Thormod came dragging 
down the ox, and in a great sweat they were ; but by dint of one 
taking the beast behind, and the other before, they heaved him 
into the boat. Grettir went aft, and left the brothers to row; but 
when they rounded Goat-rock there came such a squall that they 
could make no headway. Thorgeir moreover with the force of 
his pulling broke the thole-pins. Then he bade Grettir row while 
he mended them. Grettir took the oars and pulled till both 
snapped asunder. And while Thormod laughed, and Thorgeir 
whittled at new thole-pins, he caught up the mast and boom, and 
cutting notches in the gunwale to pull against, rowed so mightily 
that the ten-oared craft creaked and bowed beneath his strokes, 
and presently came to land. Then Grettir asked whether they 
would haul the boat ashore or take home the ox. But having had 
enough of the ox, which was strong and big and very unruly, they 
chose to see after the boat. That ox was the stubbornest brute; 


426 Popular Ro 7 nances of the Middle Ages. 

he would go nowhither that a man wanted; and a weary dance 
he led Grettir. Thorgeir and Thormod stowed the boat and over¬ 
took him half way to the farmstead. Grettir was pulling with all 
his might, and the beast had set his fore-hoofs down in front of 
him and would not budge. However, the brothers said that they 
should not meddle with the job, and walked off home. Grettir 
was getting well-nigh tired, and finding that the brute would 
neither drag nor drive, he caught him by the hind legs and flung 
him across his back. Thorgils came out to look for him, and lo 
there was a man coming up the hill with an ox upon his shoulders! 
Much marvelled the folk at Grettir’s strength. 

But Thorgeir grew envious of him, and one day, going down 
upon the beach with his brother, they met Grettir coming up out 
of the sea from his bath. And Thorgeir said to him, ‘ Grettir, is 
it true that thou hast boasted thou wouldst never flee from before 
any one man ? ’ He said, ‘ I have never seen the man from whom 
I would run. Mayhap there be such men, but tliou art not one 
of them.’ Thorgeir had an axe in his hand, and lifted it on high. 
Grettir had nothing in his hands, but he ran under Thorgeir’s 
arms and flung him a great fall on the shingle. Then Thorgeir 
cried aloud to his brother for help; and Thormod came quickly 
and strove to pull Grettir from off him, but could not. A sword 
was by his side and he was going to draw it, but Thorgils came 
up and bade them cease brawling or they should no longer abide 
with him; so the men turned it to a game, and said they wrestled 
but in sport. And Thorgils had great praise from all folk, in that 
he could keep such reckless men from doing mischief either to one 
another or to their neighbours. 

Now the time for the Thing being come, Thorod Drapna-stump 
brought on the suit for the slaying of Thorbiorn Oxmain. Atli’s 
kinsmen made interest with Skapti the Lawman, and got him to 
defend Grettir. Skapti said he thought that he could make a 
good case, and one that should free him from his outlawry. When 
the judges had heard wdiat was to be said on either side, they 
came to believe that, Atli and Thorbiorn having been bonders of 
equal worth, the two slayings should be taken to overset one 
another. Then said Skapti, ‘ Why so ? Our side is not guilty of 
a slaying at all. The indictment against Grettir is clearly wrono- 
unless you can show that he was outlawed since the slay in of 
Atli, because an outlaw^ed man is wholly shut out from law whetlier 
for or against him.’ Now when it came to be reckoned up it was 
found that Grettir’s outlawry began a week before the death of 
Atli 


Grettir the Strong, 427 

‘ Wherefore/ said Skapti, * the suit is brought against a man 
who was at that time shut out by law from prosecuting the case, 
and for that cause the suit must fall through. Beside which it is 
still open for him who is nearest of kin to take up the blood-suit 
for Atli’s slaying. For an outlawed man is as one dead, and can 
neither take it up nor avenge it.’ 

Then said Thorod Drapna-stump, ‘This is all very well, but 
who is going to answer to me for the slaying of my brother 
Thorbiorn Oxmain % * 

‘ That is your business,’ said Skapti; ‘see you to that.’ There¬ 
by the suit against Grettir failed. 

Next, Skapti got the nearest of kin to Atli to set up a suit 
against Thorod Drapna-stump for Atli’s slaying, and in the end 
Tliorod was doomed: to pay two hundred pieces of silver.’ ‘ Now,’ 
said Skapti, ‘if you take the outlawry off Grettir we will give up 
the money-fine ; and if you do not, you will find it an ill thing to 
keep such a man as he at enmity with all folk.’ Thorod 
grumbled not a little at this, but for his part Avould have taken 
the offer. Howbeit, since Grettir had been outlawed at the suit 
of Thorir of Garth, they had first to learn what he had to say 
about setting him free. 

Thorir, when, he heard what was wanted, waxed exceeding 
wroth, and said, ‘ Never with my will shall he be freed, and I 
will put more money on his head than any man yet put upon an 
outlaw.’ And with that he came to Thorod Drapna-stump, and 
prevailed on him to pay down the money for Atli’s slaying, and 
make no bargain with Grettir. Thorod was loth enough, but he 
counted out the two hundred pieces of silver, and paid them over 
to Atli’s kinsmen. Then, since he had lost his money for naught, 
and gotten no atonement for his brother, he joined with Thorir of 
Garth, and they each set a price of three marks of silver upon 
Grettir’s head. Nevertheless, when the folk rode home from the 
Thing, they were nowise pleased to have Grettir still abiding in 
outlawry, for they knew full well that many a man would have to 
suffer for it. 

After this Grettir fared away into the dales and preyed fear¬ 
lessly upon the goods of all the petty bonders in Icefirth : he 
carried off their horses and cattle, their victuals and clothes and 
weapons ; yet none durst withstand him by force. Howbeit the 
farmers took counsel together, and set on spies to watch for 
Grettir, and seek out where he hid himself at night. They found 
that he lurked in a wood on Waterfirth dale; and thither the 
farmers gathered together, thirty men in all, and came upon 


428 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Grettir as he lay asleep. Nevertheless they had great dread ol 
him as he lay there, and considered for some time how they 
should take him. Then they settled that ten men should leap 
on him at once and hold him down whilst the others bound his 
legs. This they did, and cast themselves upon him altogether; 
but Grettir struggled mightily and gat upon his knees, and sent 
one stunned and sprawling here, and another there. But the 
men were so many that at last they had him down and set the 
bonds upon him. Then the farmers fell to talking what they 
should do with Grettir now they had got him, and each man was 
for wanting his neighbour to take Grettir home and keep him in¬ 
ward through the winter \ but there was found none willing, for 
they said, ‘ Whosoever has him will have to stop farming, and set 
all his house-carles a watching him.’ d'hey thought, ‘ What are 
we to do with him 1 It is so long before the 'J'hing is held.’ At 
last, after they had turned the matter over, and saw that they 
durst neither keep him nor let him go, they determined to hang 
him; and with one accord they fell to work and got a rope over 
a trusty bough of a tree, and so made a gallows. 

Now who should come riding by but good wife Thorbiorg and 
her servants. She was wife to Vermund, the chief farmer about 
those parts. Vermund was away from home, and at such times 
the goodwife ruled the neighbourhood; for she was a wise woman 
and of sturdy will. Thorbiorg espying Grettir in bond said, 

‘ Who is yon big-necked man, and wherefore have you bound himl’ 
They told her, and she said, ‘ Great ill-luck it is for a man like 
that to be taken and bound by a pack of milksops such as ye. 
And what will ye do with him 'I ’ They answered, ‘ Hang him ; 
for what else can we do ^ ’ 

‘ In sooth you will not,’ said the good dame; ‘ doubtless he is 
guilty enough, but he is a famous man and of good kindred, albeit 
liis ill-luck is passing strange. Grettir, what wilt thou do for thy 
life if I give it thee? Wilt thou take oath to plunder no more in 
Icefirth, and to seek no revenge on them wliich bound thee 1 ’ 
He said that he would, and thereupon she made the Icefirthers 
cut the bonds. Moreover Thorbiorg bade Grettir ride away with 
her, and she gave him shelter in the farmstead till Vermund came 
home. Vermund was not well pleased with his wife for deliver¬ 
ing Grettir from the Icefirth carles, and he asked wherefore she 
had done so. ‘Goodman,’ she said, ‘the folk will deem thee a 
greater man than ever in that thou hadst a wife with mettle enough 
to do this thing.’ Then Vermund spake to Grettir, saying, ‘Thine 
is a troublesome life, and I have some pity for thee; yet I care 


Grcttir the Strong, 429 

not to harbour thee longer, to get the ill-will of my neighbours. 
Wherefore, seek out thy kinsmen, if perchance they be minded to 
take thee in.’ 

Tlien Grettir journeyed away and sought lodging here and 
there; but one thing and another befell that scarce any would 
give him shelter; and he was forced to take goods and victuals 
trom Such men as he waylaid, in order to get food. And this he 
did for many winters. But he grew very tired of his lonely life, 
and by and by he sought out Skapti the Lawman, and prayed 
him to take him in. Skapti said, ‘‘ Ill things are told of thee, 
Grettir. Folk say thou layest hands on other men’s good ; and it 
befitteth not a man of thy kin to rob and plunder like other wood- 
folk. I cannot harbour thee; for how shall a lawman break the 
laws by sheltering outlawed men? But take my counsel: give up 
pillaging, and seek out some place where thou mayest.live by thy 
hands. But see thou dwell alone, and put no trust in any man, 
for there are few that would not betray thee for thy head- 
money.’ 

Grettir thanked him for this wholesome counsel, and soon after 
fared off to Ernewater heath among the mountains. There he 
made himself an earth-house over against Fishwater lake, and 
dwelt therein. He made also nets and a boat, and caught fish for 
his food, being fain to do anything rather than rob. 

But the mountains were drear and lonely. He had none to 
speak to; there was no sound but the wind whistling through the 
heath and the waters lapping in the lake. Very terrible he found 
it to be alone; for in the dark Glam’s eyes shone out and 
fastened on him, dreadful as he had seen them in the moonlight. 
So fearsome waxed Grettir that he could not bear his life; and he 
longed for company of his kind. 

Now there was an outlaw, named Grim, a ruffianly fellow, with 
whom the Northlanders made a bargain that he should seek out 
Grettir and slay him, for which deed he should be rewarded both 
with freedom and a price in money. He came to Grettir in his 
earth-house, and sought for shelter. 

Grettir was so glad to see a man again that he took him in 
and welcomed him right heartily. Grim dwelt there all the 
winter, and all that time he sought opportunity to fall on Grettir 
unawares; but Grettir always had his weapons by him night and 
day. One time Grim had been out all night fishing, and very 
early in the morning he came home and found Grettir lying in 
bed with the short sword over the bed’s head. And that ho 
might know for certain whether Grettir were asleep. Grim trampled 


430 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

hither and thither about the floor, making a great noise with his 
feet; yet Grettir stirred not nor opened his eyes. Then Grim 
crept softly up to the head of the bed, and stealthily drew out 
the short sword from its sheath. He lifted it aloft, but in that 
moment Grettir sprang up and wrested it from out his fist, flung 
the man headlong on his back, and smote him to the heart. 

After this, Thorir of Garth, yet burning for vengeance for his 
sons, set on another outlaw called Eedbeard to go and slay 
Grettir. For that cause came Eedbeard to Grettir’s hut, saying, 
‘ I pray thee give me harbourage through the winter. Thou art 
right enough to mistrust outlaws, and an ill name have I gotten 
for slayings and other misdeeds, but I am not the one to betray 
a friend.’ Grettir misdoubted the man for all his fair words, but 
his loneliness was grown so irksome that he was fain to let him 
in. Nevertheless he held himself very warily towards Eedbeard. 
So time sped on, and two winters slipped away, yet Eedbeard 
never got a chance against his life. And Eedbeard Avorked so 
hard, and was so handy about boatcrait and fishing, that Grettir 
took a liking to him. However, one night a great storm arose, 
and Eedbeard got up in the middle of the night, saying that he 
would go and see after the boat. When he came down to the 
beach Eedbeard took the nets and flung them into the water, 
and then stove in the boat; and having cast the pieces about 
the shore, came presently back to Grettir, shouting, ‘ The storm 
has broken the boat to pieces, and the nets are all afloat. Come 
down and let us see what is to be done.’ Grettir rose up, and 
taking his short sword with him came down to the waterside. 
He saw the nets adrift, and bade Eedbeard slip off his clothes 
and SAvim out to them. Eedbeard said, ‘ I am not skilled in 
swimming, but all men say that thou art; Avherefore do thou go 
after them.’ Grettir said, ‘ So be it then. Only betray me not, 
for I trust in thee.’ Eedbeard answered, ‘ Deem not so ill of me. 
Lo these tAvo years liave we dwelt together, and by this time 
thou shouldst knoAV I am well-minded toward thee.’ Then 
Grettir stripped off his clothes and his weapons and laid them 
on the beach. He swam off to the nets, gathered them in his 
hands, and came in shore at a little jutting neck of land. But 
as he set foot upon the bank Eedbeard ran upon him with the 
short sword and smote at him. Grettir fell backwards into the 
water and sank like a stone. Eedbeard stood waiting in case ho 
rose to smite him again, and keep him off from the shore. But 
Grettir dived and felt his way along the bank, under Avater, till 
he got round the other side of the neck of land. Then he rose 


431 


Grettir the Strong, 

soft !y and came behind Redbeard, who was peering down into 
the water on the other bank. Grettir caught him suddenly by 
l!ie middle and flung him backwards over his head. The short 
f-word flew out of Eedbeard’s hand in the fall \ Grettir took it up 
and smote the head from off his body. 

From that time Grettir would take in no more outlaws to abide 
witli him. Yet his loneliness oppressed him very sore. 

Now Thorir of Garth heard of the slaying of Redbeard, and 
being determined to rid the land of Grettir, he gathered together 
in all about eighty men and went forth to hunt liim down. But 
there came a message to Grettir from one of his kindred of what 
was brewing; so being ware of it, he went no more home to his 
hut but betook himself to the mountains, and lurked about a 
certain pass where a mighty rock had gaped open and made a 
narrow cleft, walled high on either hand. There Tl\orir and his 
folk found Grettir, and thinking that he had now caught the 
great outlaw in a trap, Thorir parted his men into two companies, 
w^hereof he set on one to enter the pass and flght Grettir face to 
face, while the other should go round the mountain and come 
in at the far end of the pass and take him in the rear. The pass 
was scarce wide enough for two men to walk abreast, and Grettir 
had little fear of holding it against them which came in front. 
Man after man that stood forth to meet him got his death-wound 
from the short sword. Grettir gave no ground and fought at his 
ease ; for no matter how fiercely they assailed him they could 
only come on one, or at most two, at a time; and if they came 
two, they hustled one another and could make no weapon-play. 
But he knew that the rest were gone round to get in at the back 
of him, and continually looked about, thinking that when they 
came it would fare hardly with him. Yet they came not. And 
Grettir marvelled greatly. However, when many of the men 
which faced him had been slain, and many more wounded, Thorir 
saw that they could do nothing and so drew oft* his men. What 
troubled Thorir most was, that they which went in at the pass 
behind Grettir fared no better than they which assailed him in 
front. So from this deeming it useless to figlit further with 
Grettir upon the mountains, he and his people rode off. They 
left eighteen dead men over that encounter and took away many 
that were sorely wounded. And when Thorir got home again 
lie was greatly jeered at; for folk deemed it a shameful journey 
to leave Grettir whole and lose so many men. 

After Thorir’s folk were gone, Grettir, yet marvelling about 
tlie fight, walked down the pass, and there he saw a huge strong 


432 Popttlar Romances of the Middle Ages, 

man, sore wounded, leaning against the roadside. ‘ Who art 
thou 1 ’ he said. The big man answered, ‘ I am Hallmund. I 
dwell up here in a cave. I got an inkling of the fight, and had 
no mind to see a brave man slaughtered like a sheep. I kept 
the pass this end for thee, and thou canst count the dead.’ 
Grettir did so and found Hallmund had slain twelve. Then said 
Grettir, ‘ Thou hast shown great manliness towards me ; and so 
long as I live I will never forget it.’ Hallmund answered, ‘ It is 
little enough to help a man in time of need. But come and abide 
with me, for it is lonely for thee in thy hut upon the heath.’ 

Glad words they were to Grettir. He went home with Hall¬ 
mund, and they twain made friends together, and Hallmund’s 
wife tended the wounds of both of them. 

Now that Grettir had company he was greatly cheered in mind 
and temper. He abode with Hallmund through the summer and 
well-nigh forgat his fearsonieness of the dark. Then his old love 
of wandering came strong upon him, and he must needs fare away 
to the dwellings of men; moreover he longed to see his kindred 
again. 

First he journeyed to Burgfirth, and thence to Broadfirth Dales, 
where he sought out a kinsman of his named Thorstein Kuggson, 
and asked of him in what part of the country he might with 
safety abide. Thorstein Kuggson said, ‘ Thine enemies are now 
grown so many that scarce any man may harbour thee. Thou 
art not safe here; but fare away south to the marshes; it is 
likely thou mayest find hiding there.’ 

So Grettir came south and dwelt in Fairwood-fell the winter 
through. Many lost goods at his hands, but could get no redress, 
for Grettir had housed himself in a strong place and was ever a 
good friend to those in need. 

Tliere was a seafaring man who came down to AVhiteriver 
called Gisli; an arrant dandy, who prided himself beyond measure 
in his smart new clothes and polished weapons, and was withal 
somewhat given to boasting. He spake to the folk, saying, ‘How 
cometh it to pass that you do not rid yourselves of an outlaw 
that doth so much mischief % ’ They said, ‘ Thou knowest little 
of the might that is in Grettir. Many have desired to win his 
head-money; for, beside the price put on him beforetime, Thorir 
of Garth last summer added another three marks of silver, making 
nine in all; nevertheless most men deem the money will have to 
be earned full dear.’ Gisli answered, ‘ Like enough he may scare 
such folk as you; but I would have you to know that I have 
fought in battle along with the great King Cnut and am no 


433 


Gr'ettir the Strong, 

coTYimon sort of a man. The people in that battle said they 
never saw the like of my fighting. They were wonderstruck. 
I do not brag, my friends; I only say what others say of me. 
But set your minds at rest. If this Grettir comes across rny path 
I will terrify him.’ He smoothed his beard, settled his fine 
clothes in order, and strode away. 

• Grettir was stopping with Biorn, the Hitdale champion, a bluff 
hardy fellow who would harbour outlaws in spite of any man. 
And Biorn said to him, ‘ Try and hap upon this fop. I would 
i.ot slay him, but only have some sport with him.’ Grettir 
laughed but answered nothing. 

In the autumn Grettir made a sheep-fold for himself upon the 
mountains, wherein to drive the sheep he stole from the bonders. 
One day he had taken four wethers from a flock and was driving 
them up the hill-side, when six bonders beset him and. sought to 
get their sheep away; but Grettir caught up two of the men and 
hurled them down the hill, whereon the rest held off a space; 
nevertheless when they called, the sheep were fain to follow 
them. ^ And Grettir waxing very angry at the trouble the sheep 
gave him to drive, laid hold of them, locked them together by 
the horns, and flung them two by two over each shoulder. So 
he gat home with them to his lair. 

Now the bonders having put Gisli in mind that near a year 
had passed and he had as yet done nothing against the outlaw, 
Gisli arrayed himself in the finest coloured clothes which he had 
and came riding with two of his shipmates to the hills where 
Grettir lurked. Grettir espied them riding, and coming down 
the hill-side he took hold of the bridle of Gisli’s horse and laid 
hands upon the saddle-bag. Gisli said, ‘ Bobber, knowest thou 
wdth whom thou hast to do ? ’ ‘ Nay,’ said Grettir, ‘ and I care 

very little, for never was I a respecter of persons; but I shall 
have this saddle-bag.’ Then the three men leaped off their horses, 
and Gisli cried stoutly to his fellows, ‘On to him, good comrades! 
Be not afraid of this uncouth boor, for I am with you I ’ How- 
beit he sneaked behind their backs and feigned a little play with 
his daint}'- sword from time to time. As for Grettir, he mounted 
to a piece of rock, and swinging round the short sword, quickly 
laid Gisli’s two companions dead; but Gisli never ventured 
within sweep of the blade. Then he leapt down to have ado 
with the dandy. But Gisli flung down his weapons and ran for 
very life; and as he ran he threw off his finery, garment after 
garment. Grettir followed, somewhat at his ease, meaning to 
give him time to put off his clothes. So Gisli ran and Grettir 

2 E 


434 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

after him, till they came to Haf-firth-river, and by that time Gisli 
had nothing on but his shirt and breech; and the river was 
bitter cold and full of ice-drift, and being swollen with winter 
rains was too deep to ford. Gisli was in a sweat for fear, and 
trembled from head to foot. Grettir caught him by the shoulders 
and flung him on the ground. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘art thou that 
Gisli that was so fain to meet Grettir Asmundson 1 ’ He an¬ 
swered, ‘In sooth I am, but now more fain would I be rid of him. 
Keep all thou hast and let me go.' Grettir said, ‘ Aye, aye; but 
first I must teach thee a lesson thou shalt not quickly forget.’ 
Therewith he pulled off Gisli’s shirt, and having uprooted a 
prickly bush which grew hard by, he laid it about the dandy’s 
back and flogged him through and through, while Gisli cried and 
blubbered for mercy. As soon as Grettir let him go, he leapt 
headlong into the river and swam to the other bank, and so gat 
home. A whole week Gisli lay in bed with his body swollen, a 
fearful sight, and when he durst go out he told the folk that a 
fiend had met him on the mountain. Not a word he spake about 
Grettir. But people took note that from that time he did not 
swagger as was his former wont. 

After Grettir had been two winters at Fairwood-fell,. he went 
off' to Hitriver and joined himself with two other men; and 
many sheep and beasts they stole. They three did a great fight 
there with twenty bonders which caught them driving away 
cattle. They got the cattle and slew eight bonders, but the affray 
was so noised abroad that Grettir came back to Fairwmod, where 
he abode another winter. Then he went on to Hallmund and 
abode the next winter with him in his cave. But after Grettir 
journeyed away, Hallmund, who was ever good to wanderers, 
took in an outlaw named Grim who was a wondrous lucky fisher¬ 
man. Hallmund misliked the luck of the man, and half in sport 
and half in spite would come at night and steal away the fish 
that hung before his door. Grim could not find who the thief 
was, so he sat up and watched one night in the dark; and when 
Hallmund came and had lifted the fish upon his back. Grim stole 
softly up to him and with both hands drave his axe down deep 
into Hallmund’s shoulder and wounded him to death. Some say 
Grim knew not then that it was Hallmund; but however that 
might be. Grim had no after-sorrow for the deed, for he after¬ 
wards said, ‘ It served him right; what business had he to steal 
my fish % ’ 

Now Thorir of Garth again took up the pursuit after Grettir, 
and hunted him over hill and dale with a greater company oi 


Grettir the Strong, 435 

horsemen than before. So Grettir was forced to move from 
place to place and keep close hiding as best he might. There 
was another man with him, and one day on Reeklieath, when, 
thinking themselves safe from any following, they rode more 
openly abroad, on a sudden Grettir spied Thorir and his troop 
close upoii them. By goodhap there was a mountain dairy a 
little in from the wayside, and Grettir cried to his fellow, ‘Quick, 
in with the horses; ’ and in they went and hid themselves there 
till the pursuers went past. Then Grettir bethought that he 
would send Thorir on a fool’s chase. So he changed clothes with 
his fellow, and put on the garments all awry, and slouching hia 
hat to look like a boor, came round by a short cut to the place 
where he should meet Thorir on the way. Thorir seeing a great 
lout of a carle by the wayside, said, ‘Tell me, hast thou seen 
aught of a couple of horsemen riding over the heath 1 ’ And 
Grettir, disguising his voice, answered, ‘ Aye, good sir; but a 
little ago I mind seeing two villanous-looking rogues ride by; one 
of them a stout built man. They branched off the track down 
there to the left, and I should deem they will not be above a 
mile away.’ Thorir thanked the carle and rode off, he and his 
men, at full speed down the hill to the left. Grettir laughed and 
watched them; and presently the whole troop were floundering 
about in a bog, the horses up to their bellies in mire, and Thorir 
and his folk cursing the boor which had beguiled them. It took 
them all day to drag the horses out, and all night to clean them¬ 
selves from the mire. But Grettir and his comrade sped away to 
Garth at their swiftest, and never drew rein till they reached 
Thorir’s homestead. They went in and found Thorir’s daughter, 
and Grettir said to her, ‘ My little gold-haired lass, when father 
gets out of the mire, wilt thou tell him that Grettir and his 
comrade have been to Garth to see him ? ’ The little maid 
wondered what it meant, and they rode off. But Thorir was 
right mad when he came home : and no one could help laughing 
at the way the outlaw had befooled him. 

But there were set so many spies upon Grettir that he deemed 
it best to part company with his fellow. So Grettir sent him 
away westward with the horses, and betaking himself to the 
mountains, wandered off northward in disguise. 

Now Grettir learnt that there were strange doings in the house 
of one Stein, a priest who dwelt at Sand-heaps, over against 
Isledale-river. For two Yule-eves past, the house-carle that had 
been left at home to guard the house whilst the goodman and his 
wife went to church, was carried off and seen no more, but blood- 


43 ^ Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

tracks were found on the door-lintel next morning. Wherefore 
Grettir came that Yule-eve to Stein’s homestead seeking shelter. 
The goodman of the house was gone his way to church, and his 
wife Steinvor was arraying herself to follow after him, both she 
and her little daughter. Steinvor asked him his name \ and 
Grettir, fearing to make himself known, said his name was Guest. 
‘Well, Guest,’ she said, ‘thou art welcome to guesting; but thou 
knowest doubtless the illhaps which befall in this house on Yule- 
eve ; so take thy meat and drink, and tarry not.’ Grettir thanked 
her but said, ‘ I am minded to abide here this night, and I will 
keep the house for thee.’ She looked at him, and seeing him to 
be of great growth and well knit together about neck and 
shoulders, she said, ‘ Thou art a brave man; ’ and Steinvor tarried 
talking with him till the time drew on for church. Then 
Grettir accompanied the goodwife and her daughter down to the 
river which they had to cross. That morning the ice had been 
sound and good, but it had thawed fast, and now the river roared 
along, crashing the drift-ice as it went. Steinvor said, ‘ What 
shall we do, for there is no ford here, and there is no time to 
get round higher up, and neither man nor horse can cross this 
flood ? ’ 

Grettir said, ‘Never fear but I shall carry thee over.’ 

‘ Nay,’ she answered, ‘ but carry over the little maiden first, for 
she is the lightest.’ 

‘ I have no mind to make two journeys of it,’ said Grettir; and 
with that caught up wife and daughter in his left arm, and waded 
into the river breast high. The stream ran very swiftly; the ice-floes 
in great packs came swirling down upon him, but he warded them 
off with his right hand, and came to the other bank. Then having 
set Steinvor and her child ashore, he came back to'Sand-heaps about 
the time of twilight. And after he had eaten his meat he shut 
the homefolk in a chamber against the gable end of the hall, made 
a strong barrier of timber before the chamber-wall, and set a 
bench in front of it. Thereon he laid himself down in his clothes 
to guard the hall. 

A t midnight there was a great noise, and a mighty troll-wife 
brake in through the door. In one hand she bare an axe, and in 
the other a trough, and as soon as she espied Grettir she ran in 
and grappled him. They wrestled about the hall till everything 
therein was broken. The troll-wife was the stronger of the twain, 
and dragged Grettir out of the doorway. They brake the door- 
framings away with their shoulders as they burst through. All 
that night they struggled betwixt the doorway and the stream. 


Grettir the Strong, 43 7 

the troll-wife seeking to drag him to the river-bank, and cast him 
into the gulf, Grettir withstanding her with all his craft; but he 
had clutched tlie witch fast about the waist and durst not leave 
go. At hist she got him to the bank; there Grettir gathered up 
his might and suddenly swung the witch-wife round. It was but 
for a moment, but he freed one hand, drew forth the short sword 
and smote off the arm which grappled him. The witch fell 
backwards into the stream and was swept away down into the 
force. 

Grettir was waxed so stiff and swollen from the encounter that 
he scarce could crawl back to the homestead, and when he reached 
it he long lay sick and weary in bed. Stein the priest, and his 
wife Steinvor, tended him, and did so much for his welfare that 
Grettir revealed his name; and after that they harboured him 
none the less willingly, because of the deliverance which he had 
wrought. 

As soon as he got his strength again, Grettir bade Stein come 
out with him and bring a rope, for that he was bent upon going 
down into the force whither the witch-wife was carried, neither 
would he suffer the priest to gainsay him. A cliff rose fifty 
fathoms sheer above the water in that place, and down below the 
whirlpool foamed and roared about the rocks. Grettir bound a 
great stone to one end of the rope and sank it in the water; the 
other end he made fast to a peg upon the cliff-top, and having 
made Stein promise to watch the rope, plunged off the cliff and 
dived into the force. He swam down through the water, and past 
it, till he came to some jutting rocks, whereabout the sand was 
dry, and the river rolled by overhead. A great cave was there, 
and within, by a blazing wood-fire, sat a huge and dreadful ogre. 
Seeing Grettir, the ogre caught up a glaive and smote at him. 
But the glaive had a wooden handle, and Grettir lopped it in 
twain with the short sword, and before the ogre could reach up 
for the sword which hung in the cave, that same short sword had 
hewed him well-nigh to pieces. The priest who watched above 
the force, seeing the foam stained with blood, and pieces of flesh 
tossing about in the water, deemed Grettir dead, and fared off 
home. But Grettir swam up through the force, and brought with 
him the bones of Stein’s two house-carles which he found in the 
ogre’s cave. Much marvelled the priest when he saw those bones, 
and he laid them in earth in the churchyard. And folk in that 
valley were never haunted more. 

That winter Grettir found good hiding at Sandheaps, but certain 
rumours of these exploits being snread abroad, Thorir of Garth 


43B Poptdar Romances of the Middle Ages, 

was well assured that none but this mighty outlaw could have done 
such deeds, and so sent men there to take him. For that cause 
Grettir was minded to go to a little island in Skagafirth called 
Drangey, which was a good place for defence, inasmuch as it was 
so rocky that it must needs be scaled by ladders ; but so fiercesome 
was he grown of the dark that not even for the saving of his life 
could he bear to be alone. So he hasted home to Biarg, and there 
abode for a few nights with his mother and his brother Illugi. 
There learning how Grim had slain his friend Ilallmund, he went 
forth seeking him ; but Grim had gone away two years and more. 
Thorstein Kuggson, his kinsman, had also fallen in fight, but 
neither could Grettir light upon his slayer. And while he yet 
w'andered about the Dales seeking to avenge these two slayings, 
Grettir was met by Thorod the son of Snorri, a man of some 
prowess, who withstood him up in the fell. Thorod drew his 
sword and laid on madly. Grettir did but jest at him the while, nor 
did he draw the short sword, but only warded the blows off with 
his shield, till presently growing weary of the strife Grettir said, 

‘ Leave this child’s play, for thou canst do nought against me.' 
And wLen Thorod would not, but set on the more fiercely, Grettir 
laid by his shield, and taking him in his arms put him down upon 
the ground, saying, ‘ I can do with thee as I will; but thy father, 
the grey old Snorri, is a good and wise man, highly esteemed are 
his counsels, and I cannot bring sorrow to him by slaying thee. 
Wherefore arise and go thy way, and another time seek not an 
enterprise beyond thy strength.’ So Thorod rose up, a little 
abashed, and parted good friends with Grettir. And when 
Thorod told his father how he had fared at Grettir’s hands, Snorri 
said, ‘ Grettir has dealt gently by thee, and if my counsels may 
avail aught at the Thing to better his lot, I shall give them in his 
favour.’ And ever thereafter the old man spake a good word for 
the outlaw. 

Afterwards Grettir went again to Biarg and spake to his 
mother, saying, ‘So lonely is my life and the darkness is so 
terrible, I pray thee let me take my brother Illugi for a com¬ 
panion. Then I can hie me off to Drangey and fear no man.’ 
And his mother Asdis was very heavy at heart, and said, ‘ He is 
my youngest-born, the last of all my boys, and I had hoped to 
keep one of all my sons about me while I live.’ But Illugi said, 
‘ Mother, Grettir’s lot is very hard. I trow not if he may find 
my help of great avail; but of this one thing he may be sure, I 
will never run from him while he is alive; and perchance he 
may find solace in my fellowship. Let me go, 1 pray thee.’ Then 


Grettir the Stro 7 tg, 439 

spake Grettir, * Thou gladdenest my heart, dear brother; and if 
my mother will spare thee I am fain that thou shouldst go/ 

Asdis wept and said, ‘ Take him, Grettir. Needs be thou 
shouldst have comfort of some in thy loneliness. But 0 my sons, 
I know that I shall never look upon your faces more.’ ‘ Weep 
not, mother, even if so it be,’ said Grettir, ‘ for whatever befall, 
folk shall say that thou hast borne braver children than any 
woman.’ Then Asdis busied herself about their departure, and 
gathered together much of her goods and money, more than they 
could take, and furnished them for the journey. Grettir said, 
‘ Farewell, mother; live on, hale and hearty,’ and therewith they 
parted. Glad was Illugi at going with his brother. So they set 
out together, but all that autumn they tarried about the country¬ 
side and saw their kindred by stealth. 

When winter was come they drew nigh Skagafirth.; and there 
met them at Dinby a gaunt lazy fellow, who thrust himself into 
their company. He was a meny tom-fool whom men had nick¬ 
named Noise, big and idle and empty-headed, and Grettir had 
great sport with him; and because of the diversion which he 
made Grettir forbade him not to go with them. So they all 
came on to Keekstead, which is by the firth side; and Grettir 
prayed of the bonder there to put him across to the island. He 
would not at first, but when Grettir gave him the purse he had 
gotten from his mother, and the bonder had seen how full it 
was, he called out his house-carles and rowed them over the same 
night. 


VI. THE LADDERS UPON DRANGEY. 

Now Drangey Island lies somewhat within the firth mouth; and 
on the shore on either side, scarce a sea-mile away, were farm¬ 
steads owned by bonders of more or less account. All these 
bonders had shares in the island according to the bigness of their 
holdings on the mainland. Thorbiorn Angle and Hialti, the sons 
of Thord, owned the most of Drangey, because their farms were 
biggest, but nigh a score in all had some share therein. They kept 
rams and ewes there to fat for slaughter, because the herbage 
was good. The island all round about was cliff, which rose up 
sheer from out of the sea, so that none might come upon the 
pasture land atop save when the ladders were let down; and if 



440 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

the topmost ladder were drawn up, no man could scale the rock- 
side. In summer the cliffs are full of sea-fowl, and the winter 
Grettir came to Drangey there were eighty sheep upon the island 
So Grettir drew up the ladders and set himself down in peace, 
for he had now both food and company, and was in a place 
whence none might oust him. 

At midwinter the bonders rowed over to Drangey tcf fetch 
their fat sheep. Greatly they marvelled when they drew nigh at 
seeing men upon the island, and deeming them shipwrecked 
mariners they hailed Grettir, and called to him to let down the 
ladders. ‘ Nay,^ shouted he, ‘ we have men enough upon the 
island; but if ye are bent on coming, come up as best ye may.* 
The bonders were greatly chopfallen at this, and besought him, 
saying, ‘Only let us come up and fetch our sheep and thou 
shalt come ashore with us, and we will freely forgive thee for all 
thou hast slaughtered.’ Grettir said, ‘ I deem it better that each 
should keep what he has got. That which I once lay hands on I 
seldom let go. So waste no more words.’ 

Fair speeches they made after that, and proffers of money, but 
Grettir only laughed at them and went his way. So the bonders 
turned their barge about and rowed back to land, and with woe¬ 
ful countenances came and told their neighbours what a wolf had 
got into their sheep-fold. They laid their heads together and 
talked the matter speech bare, but winter passed and they could 
not hit on any plan to get Grettir out of the island. 

That spring much people flocked to the Thing which was held 
at Heron-ness; and it being no further from Drangey than up 
the fork of the firth, Grettir set his mind to go thither, for he 
always grew weary of abiding long in one place. So having 
charged Noise and Illugi to stay upon the island and see after the 
ladders, he swam off at night to the mainland. Disguised in a 
cloak and hood, Grettir came along byways, and reached Heron- 
ness. There he found a host of folk assembled from all the 
country-side, holding sports and merrymaking whilst the suits in 
the court went on. Booths were spread all about, and there was 
much wrestling-play. 'I'he two sons of Thord, Thorbiorn Angle 
and Hialti, were the strongest at that game; and these laid hold 
on whatsoever man they chose and dragged him willy nilly into 
the ring to fare at wrestling as he might. 

Thorbiorn Angle, beholding a stout-built man sit upon a bench 
•with a hood slouched over his face, went and laid hold of him 
and pulled his hardest. But the man sat still and budged never 
a whit. Thorbiorn said, ‘ Thou art the first man I have found 


441 


Grettir the Strong* 

withstand me this day, and I reckon myself somewhat strong of 
hand. Who art thou ? ’ The man said his name was Guest. 
‘ And a welcome guest thou shalt be,’ said Thorbiorn, ‘ if thou 
wdt but show us a little wrestling-play for our merriment, for 
methinks thou hast the knack.’ Many more came up and like¬ 
wise prayed him to wrestle with some one. ‘Nay,’ answered 
Guest, ‘ time was when it was a sport of mine, but I have left 
wrestling.’ But when they prayed him yet more and more, 
< iuest said, ‘I am greatly loth to wrestle, being a stranger here; 
I 'ut if I must needs be dragged about for your pastime, you must 
do so much for me as to make a covenant to hold me scatheless 
viutil I come back to my home.’ To this they were all right 
willing, and they gathered about whilst one proclaimed that 
l)eace should be established betwixt all standing there and the 
new comer called Guest; that he should be free to depart when 
the games were done, despite aught that might befall; and that 
they would hold him safe until he was come back to his home¬ 
stead wheresoever that should be; so witness God and all good 
men ; whereto they laid their hands together. 

Then Guest stood up in the midst and flung off his cloak and 
hood and his outer garments, and lo, Grettir Asmundson stood 
before them ! They gazed at him, and then at one another, and 
were exceeding vexed, as men which had befooled themselves. 
They began to break up in twos and threes and to upbraid one 
another. And Grettir said, ‘Keep me not here unclad, but 
straightway determine whether or no ye will hold to the peace 
which ye have made; for I trow it is more to your profit than to 
mine.’ Nevertheless they were long at debate about the matter; 
but at last Hialti spake up, saying, ‘ We have been beguiled; yet 
since we have plighted our word, we will hold to it, lest we be 
accounted shameful in men’s eyes.’ And thereto the folk be¬ 
came of one accord and thought his words brave and right- 
wise ; but Thorbiorn Angle moved away and mumbled, but said 
nauglit. 

Thereupon the men went to the playing-ground. Grettir stood 
np stiffly at one end, and first Hialti took a long run and drave 
forward with all his might to overthrow him; but Grettir abode 
the shock and moved no more than a wall. Grettir put forth one 
hand over Hialti’s back, caught him by the breech and sent him 
whirling over his head. Then it was settled that both brothers 
should go against Grettir at once. And so they did. But though 
either of the Thords by himself had the strength of two strong 
men, the twain could not fling him. Grettir had always one of 


442 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

the brothers down under him; and he wrestled with the pair till 
they gave in from weariness, and their bodies, were black and blue 
with the gripe of his strong fingers. And men that saw, though 
they bare no goodwill towards the outlaw, could not help glorying 
in Grettir’s exceeding manliness. So they let him depart, and 
Grettir held his way in peace and got safe back to Drangey. 

But the poorer bonders fretted continually because they could 
not get over to the island, and one by one they came and offered 
to sell their shares to such as were better off. Hialti would not 
buy, but his brother Thorbiorn Angle dallied with them and made 
at one time as though he would buy, then said them nay, then 
put them off from month to month, and so at last bought their 
holdings for a mere trifle. And after that Thorbiorn drave a 
bargain with Hialti his brother and bought his share; so that by 
the summer he had gotten the greater part of the island at a very 
little price. And he was well minded to get possession thereof. 

That same summer Thorbiorn Angle manned a barge and came 
over to Drangey, and having brought the boat to an anchorage, 
he talked with Grettir, who stood with his fellows high up on the 
cliff’s edge, and sought to coax him to give up the island And 
when Grettir did but mock at him, Thorbiorn spake, saying, 

‘ Come now, Grettir; what wilt thou take in money-price to de¬ 
part out of Drangey ! ’ So Grettir said, ‘ Wherefore shouldst 
thou busy thyself so greatly about a matter which concerneth a 
score of other folk ? ’ Thorbiorn answered, ‘ Sooth to say I have 
bought the shares of many of the bonders which had holdings 
herein, and the most part of it belongs to me.’ ‘ Then spare thy 
pains,’ said Grettir; ‘ for, if the holding of the island now lieth 
betwixt me and thee, we are not like to smother each other with 
our friendship. So go thy way.’ * ‘ Well,’ said Thorbiorn, ‘ every 
dog has his day, and when thine is done it will be ill for thee.’ 
‘That is my look-out,’ said Grettir, ‘and I will risk it.’ So 
Thorbiorn went home. 

By the time they had been two years on Drangey, Grettir and 
his comrades had killed all the sheep in the island save an old 
pied ram, which they called Specklesides. And he grew so tame 
that they had no heart to slay him. He was very big, and frolic¬ 
some withal; whithersoever they went he followed like a dog, 
and each night he would come and rub his great horns against the 
door of their hut before lying down to sleep. But they had no 
lack of food, because of the sea-fowl and their eggs. Howbeit 
firing was very scarce, and the two brothers set Noise to watch 
continually for drift-wood from the sea, and they likewise made 


G ret Hr the Strong, 443 

him tend the fire, charging him straitly to be thrifty of their stock 
of wood. But Noise was an idle fellow and loathed his work, 
and for that cause ofttimes got a shaking from Grettir or Illugi. 
He never got wood enough, and some days the fire was very 
low. 

One night Noise let the fire out, and they were sore vexed, 
having no means of kindling it again. Grettir beat the thrall, 
and becalled him many ill-names. Then having stripped to his 
breeches, and bound his cloak into a bundle to take with him, 
Grettir leapt into the sea at eventide and swam off to the main¬ 
land to fetch fire. It was dark when he got ashore, and he went 
and entered into the homestead at Reeks where that bonder 
dwelt which at the first had taken him over to Drangey. All the 
folk were asleep; and he groped his way about till he came to an 
empty chamber where was a bed, and the embers of a fire glowed 
yet upon the hearth. So Grettir lay down upon the bed, and 
what with his weariness and the warmth of the chamber, he fell 
into a sound sleep; daylight came, and he still slept on. 

In the morning the bonder’s daughter and her handmaid rose 
up to do their house-work, and coming into the chamber they 
espied a man lying bare upon the bed, and the bed-clothes kicked 
off him on to the floor. They whispered together, and the hand¬ 
maid said : ‘ As I may thrive, it is Grettir Asmundson ! But who 
would have deemed a man so big about the neck and shoulders 
would be so small of growth below 1 ’ ‘ Hold thy prating tongue,’ 

said the bonder’s daughter, ‘ or he will wake.’ But the handmaid 
answered, ‘ Good sister, I cannot help it. Only look ! I never 
saw so strange a thing.’ And with that she ran up on tip-toe to 
take a peep at Grettir. But as soon as she came nigh, Grettir, 
who only feigned to sleep, caught her up in his arms, and drew 
Iier to him ; and she struggled with him and he with her; and 
the bonder’s daughter ran out of the room and screamed ; but none 
the more would Grettir let the handmaiden go till he had kissed 
her soundly. And at last she got away, laughing and blushing, 
but not so greatly iU-pleased. 

Presently Grettir arose and went to the goodman of the house. 
And when the bonder knew of the strait he was in for fire, and 
how he had swum a sea-mile after it, he not only gave him fire, 
but got out a boat and put him ashore again upon the island. 

That summer there came to Thorbiorn Angle a young man 
named Hsering, who was very agile of foot and a great climber; 
and Thorbiorn promised that it should prove greatly to his profit 
if he would scale the cliffs on Drangey. They laid their plan oa 


444 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

this wise; they were to row out to Drangey in a boat, and 
Thorbiorn was to land Hsering secretly on the rocks at one part 
of the island, and then go round to the side where the ladders 
were, and hold Grettir in speech whilst Hsering climbed the cliffs 
and came up at the back of the outlaw and smote him down. So 
they put off to the island, and Thorbiorn having landed Haering 
before it was light, straightway set him a-climbing. Then 
Thorbiorn rowed round to the other side about daybreak, as 
though he were just come from the mainland, and he began to 
talk earnestly with Grettir and Illugi, making them large promises 
if they would only give up the island. But it so befell that as 
they talked, Illugi chancing to turn his head, beheld a man 
running towards them axe in hand. And he said to Grettir, 
‘There is some guile at work, for lo, a man runneth hither with 
his axe aloft.’ ‘ Go thou and deal with him,’ said Grettir ; ‘ I will 
abide here and watch the ladders.’ But Hsering, seeing they had 
knowledge of him, took to his heels and ran. Illugi sped away 
after him, and they raced across the island till Haering came 
more suddenly than he reckoned upon the brink of the cliff, and 
not being able to stay himself, leapt down headlong, and was 
shattered to pieces upon the rocks below; and the place is called 
Ha3ring’s Leap to this day. When Illugi came back, Grettir 
asked how it had fared with his enemy, and Illugi answered, ‘ He 
would not stop to let me ask how it had fared with him, but must 
needs go and break his neck over the cliff-side.’ Thorbiorn Angle 
hearing that put off from the island, saying to his folk, ‘ Lo these 
two journeys which I have made to Drangey have come to naughi, 
but the third time I go it shall not be in vain.’ 

Now in the nineteenth year of Grettir’s outlawry died Skapti 
the Lawman: and that was exceedingly ill-timed for Grettir, 
inasmuch as Skapti had promised to bring about his, acquittal so 
soon as the years of his banishment should be fulfilled. And the 
next spring died Snorri also, the man of all others who would 
have stood his friend. And when the summer came on, and the 
Thing was held, there was a talk about Grettir’s outlawry, for his 
kindred came and urged that the time was come when he should 
be set free. But there were many which held blood-suits against 
Grettir, and these said that since he had done so many slayings 
whilst he was an outlaw, his time ought to be lengthened. Now 
Stein, the new Lawman in the room of Skapti, was a wise and 
just-dealing man; he gave forth the law that no man could be 
kept in outlawry more than twenty winters in all, no matter what 
ill-deeds he had done meanwhile. And the old records being 


445 


Grettir the Strong. 

searched, it was found that this was indeed the twentieth inimmer 
since Grettir was outlawed, but that his time would not be fully 
accomplished in whole years until winter, Howbeib as the 
Tilings were held in summer, Grettir must needs serve either half 
a year more or less, inasmuch as it was needful to declare him 
free either at that Thing, when he would have fulfilled but 
nineteen years and a half, or at the one next year when he would 
have served twenty years and a half. But Thorir of Garth rose 
up and spake very fiercely against the outlaw. Thorir was grown 
old and grey; through Grettir’s mishap he was a childless man ; 
and all these years had failed to slake his thirst for vengeance. 
He demanded that Grettir should work out his punishment to the 
uttermost; and since the law said twenty winters, Stein the 
Lawman adjudged that Grettir’s freedom should be delayed till 
next summer. 

Now many folk were in great fear because the time drew nigh 
that Grettir should be free, and they stirred up Thorbiorn Angle 
to give himself to any manner of craft, so he might compass 
Grettir’s destruction, rather than have him turned loose on tlnmi 
again. And at last Thorbiorn bethought him of his foster-mother, 
Thurid, who was very old and withered, and could scarce crawl 
about, iDut had much cunning in forbidden lore. And when he had 
told her his desire, the old witch said : ‘ I will help thee in the 
matter if thou wilt let me have my will herein; but seek not to 
know wherefore I do this or that.’ This Thorbiorn promised her, 
and she said : ‘ Take me out with thee in a boat to l)rangey, that 
I may look on Grettir and know where his luck will fail him.’ 
So Thorbiorn made ready a ten-oared boat and came over to 
Drangey with the witch-wife lying in the stern, muffled up in 
wrappings. And Thorbiorn hailed Grettir, and began to talk to 
him as aforetime concerning giving up the island. He offered him 
much money, and also to hold him scatheless for all past deeds 
if he would go away. But Grettir said : ‘ Why wilt thou pester 
me these many times 1 Do as thou wilt, I shall abide here.’ 
Thorbiorn answered, ‘I might have known what an untoward 
thief I had to deal with, and spared my journey. But it will be 
a long day that brings me hither again.’ ‘ I shall not pine for 
thy company,’ said Grettir, ‘ nor yet if thou breakest thy neck like 
the last man that came here at thy bidding.’ 

Then the witch-wife moved in her wrappings and stood up, 
tottering and shaking. She looked upon Grettir and said: 
‘ Many good things have been offered thee, and thou despisest 
them ; behold now, evil things I cast upon thee. From this time 


446 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

forth, good-heed, good-health, good-hap, shall fail thee/ And 
laying this weird on Grettir, she spread forth her trembling hands, 
and mumbled at him. 

Grettir shuddered exceedingly when he heard her, and he said 
to Illugi, ‘ Curse this foul hag. She has set my blood a-cold. 1 
fear me lest she work us evil by her cunning.’ With that he 
caught up a great stone, and flung it wildly down into the boat: 
it smote the thigh of the witch and brake it. Thorbiorn’s men 
bent to their oars and rowed away. 

‘ I would thou hadst not done that,’ said Illugi. 

‘So would I,’ answered Grettir, ‘but 1 fear her so. Would I 
had done more or less; and either killed her outright or never 
flung at all!’ 

Thorbiorn’s foster-mother lay a month in bed till the thigh-bone 
was grown together again; and as soon as she could limp about, 
she came down to the sea-shore and looked here and there for 
something whereby to wreak her vengeance. A tree-trunk was 
lying on the beach, as big as a man might carry; and she went 
to it, and with her knife smoothed a flat S 2 )ace thereon, and cut 
runes on it. Then she went backwards and forwards about the 
tree, and cast spells over it. And having got men to thrust it 
into the water, she spake witch-words to the tree that it should 
drift out to Drangey. 

Now as Grettir and Illugi walked about the island looking for 
firewood, they perceived a tree-trunk drifted ashore on the west¬ 
ward side; and Illugi said, ‘ Brother, here is firewood; let us 
take it home.’ But Grettir regarded the log, and misliked it. 
He said: ‘ Nay, Illugi, we will not have this tree; it is an evil¬ 
looking tree, and there is ill-luck about it. See thou touch it 
not.’ Grettir kicked it with his foot and thrust it back into the 
water. 

Another day they went, and behold the log was drifted up 
again close to the ladders. This time Grettir drave it far out to 
sea, and charged Illugi by no means to take it for firewood if it 
should ever be borne back again. 

It was the spring-time, and Grettir rejoiced more that year 
than an^ other to see the days lengthen, and the green spread 
over Drangey, and the flowers come; for he knew that the end 
of his outlawry drew nigh. One evening that spring the wind 
blew up into a gale and the rain poured down. Neither Grettir 
nor Illugi cared to go abroad ; but the fire getting low they sent 
Noise out to seek for wood. Noise grumbled, saying that he 
always had to trudge about on hard jobs in ill weather, but he 


447 


Grettir the Strong. 

went off to the beach, and the first thing he spied was the witch- 
wife’s tree against the ladders. Not a little glad to have found a 
log so ready to his band, he laid it across his shoulders, and bare 
it up the ladders, and bringing it to Grettir’s hut, cast it down 
before the door. Grettir heard something cast down outside, and 
taking his axe went out in the twilight to find what it might be. 
He saw that Noise had brought a goodly tree, and bade him split 
it up. But Noise was sweating and sulky moreover, for his 
burden had not been light, and he said, ‘ Split it thyself, for I 
have done my part.’ Then Grettir losing temper with the thrall, 
bade him get out of his way, and he took the axe in both hands, 
and not heeding what log it was, smote mightily into it. But 
the axe pitched flatwise on the tree-trunk, and glanced off into 
Grettir’s thigh, and smote fast into the bone of it. Then Grettir 
knew the tree, and cursed it, and the witch-wife, and Noise. He 
staggered back into the hut, and there Illugi washed his wound 
and swathed it up. 

The wound bled little, for all it was so great; it gave no pain; 
and for the first three days the edges of the flesh seemed like to 
grow together again. But on the third night Grettir tossed in his 
bed and could in nowise rest, and when Illugi had got a light and 
loosed the swathings, he saw that all the leg was blue and swollen, 
and the wound broken open anew and festering. Night after 
night Grettir lay and tossed and could not close his eyes for the 
sharpness of his pain ; but none the less did his spirit bear up 
bravely, though sleep came not to assuage his torment. He sang 
of the mighty deeds which he had wrought through life; and 
Illugi would not leave his side, but sate by him night and day to 
comfort him. 

But Grettir fretted much about the ladders as he lay. He had 
110 mind to send Illugi from him, and so was fain to leave Noise 
to see after them. Always at night he would ask the thrall if he 
had drawn the ladders up; and oftentimes Noise would wax 
surly and say that with such gales blowing no boats would 
venture out in the firth, and that he deemed it folly to take such 
pains each day for naught. But Grettir never ceased warning 
him, saying that their lots were all cast in together, and ill hap 
for one would prove ill-hap for all. Howbeit Noise was wont to 
do much as he listed; for he was very wise in his own eyes, and 
wist not that any man could teach him aught. So a fortnight 
passed, and Grettir’s wound swelled each day; the edges turned 
out and waxed so foul that he was like to die; and all that while 
the wind blew and the rain came down without ceasing. 


44 ^ Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 


VII. THE NOTCH IN THE SHORT SWORD. 

As Thorbiorn Angle sate in his house there came limping in at 
the doorway his old foster-mother, who spake, saying, ‘Arise 
quickly, get men together, and go over to Drangey, for I see that 
it shall now prosper with thee.’ He answered, ‘ Nay, mother, no 
boat can put out with such a storm blowing; let us wait for fair 
weather.’ ‘Do as I bid thee,’ said the witch. 

So Thorbiorn went and gathered eighteen men, and for all the 
waves were raging so madly, he entered with them hito a boat and 
put off to sea. I'lie witch-wife stood upon the beach and mumbled, 
waving her hands as one that weaves in the air. And it was so 
that, in spite of all the storm, there was a space of blue-smooth 
water always before the boat; and by the time it grew dusk 
they reached Drangey. Thorbiorn looked up the cliff-side, and 
behold the ladders were let down ! Wondering greatly how this 
might be, he and his men mounted to the top and came upon the 
island. Noise was lying there fast asleep and snoring hard. 
Thorbiorn took him by the ear saying, ‘ Wake up, thou careless 
dog ! Ill betide him that putteth his life in thy keeping.’ Noise 
well nigh lost bis wits when he saw eighteen men before him and 
knew what his folly had brought about. Straightway he began 
to bawl aloud if peradventure he might make Grettir hear; but 
Thorbiorn bade him hold his peace or they would kill him. Then 
was the thrall in great fear for his life, and being threatened of 
them all, he told of Grettir’s hurt, and how he lay nigh death’s 
door, with Illugi watching him. So they charged Noise to bring 
them to the hut, and he durst not say nay, but led them thither, 
crying bitterly as he went. But Thorbiorn despised him beyond 
measure and said, ‘ Thou art a cursed knave thus to betray thy 
master, although he is a man with no good in him,’ and being 
come within sight of the hut, he took the thrall and kicked and 
cuffed him about till he fell down on the ground and lay there as 
dead. 

Illugi was tending Grettir within the hut, when suddenly there 
came a mighty smiting at the door. Illugi deemed it was the 
ram, and said, ‘Brother, Specksides is knocking at the door.’ 

‘ And wondrous hard,’ said Grettir. As he spake the door burst 
open. Illugi caught up his weapons and sprang into the doorway. 
So well he guarded it that never a man could pass. They could 
do naught against him save with spears, and Illugi smote off every 
spear-head from its shaft. When the men found that there was 


Grettir the Strong, 449 

no getting in through the door, they mounted to the roof and 
began to tear away the thatch. 

Now Grettir was so sick that he could not stand, and his leg 
was so greatly swollen that he might not lift it; but he kneeled 
up in bed upon the other knee, and reaching forth a spear, thrust 
it up betwixt the rafters, and thereby ran one man through and 
through. Then Thorbiorn Angle called to his men to leave the 
midst of the roof and come and strip away the thatch from the 
far end of the ridge-beam, where Grettir might not reach them, 
telling them they were safe from Illugi because he durst not 
leave the doorway. This they did, and presently came leaping 
down into the hut. The first man that sprang upon the bed 
Grettir cleft asunder in the midst with the short sword, insomuch 
that the one half of his body fell upon the floor, but the other half 
tumbled upon Grettir, and somewhat encumbered him.* In that 
moment Thorbiorn Angle thrust him through, a great and 
grievous wound, betwixt the shoulder-blades. Grettir cried out 
to his brother, and Illugi came and flung his shield over him and 
guarded him full well. Long time they fought, and Illugi slew 
three of Thorbiorn’s fellows, and gave the most part of them 
some wound or other; and all that while he never lifted his 
shield from warding Grettir. Nevertheless at the last, when 
they could come at him in no other manner, they bore Illugi 
down with beams and took and bound him fast. Then they 
went up to Grettir; but he was fallen forward upon his face and 
lay in a swoon; and his leg was a dreadful sight, for it was de¬ 
cayed right up into his body. And one and another went and 
hewed fiercely at him with their swords. But Grettir moved 
not, for he was long past speech, and the wounds they gave him 
scarce bled at all. 

And when they all deemed him to be dead, Thorbiorn Angle 
laid hold on the short sword, but Grettir’s fingers yet griped it so 
fast that he could in nowise wrest it away. Eight of them came, 
and pulled and twisted with all their might, but could not loose 
the sword from his holding. Thorbiorn called for a block of 
wood and laid Grettir’s wrist thereon, and smote off the hand. 
Then only did the fingers loose themselves from the sword- 
handle. And after that Thorbiorn took the short sword and 
hacked not once nor twice with both hands at Grettir’s neck 
before he could smite the head from off his shoulders. But the 
short sword might not abide that stroke, and a great notch 
was broken in the midst of the blade where it §mote on Grettir’s 
neck-bones. 


450 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

So died Grettir, the most famous outlaw that ever lived in 
Iceland. He was hut fourteen years of age when he slew Skeggi, 
and all things worked together for his glory tillj being 
twenty years old, he met with Glam. He was twenty-five when 
he fell into outlawry, and he lacked but one winter of forty-five 
years old when he was slain. He abode longer in outlawry 
tlian any man; he was more mighty than all his fellows which 
have lived before or since; and none could overcome him while 
he was hale. 

Then Thorbiorn Angle bethought what he should do with 
lllugi, and he spake to him, saying, ‘I will give thee thy life if 
thou wilt pledge thyself to seek vengeance on none of us for this 
day’s work.’ lllugi said, ‘ I will not take so base an oath to save 
my life. Though I am bound both hand and foot, I tell thee, 
Angle, that if thou durst loose these cords, I will do what I may 
to avenge my brother upon thee.’ Wherefore Thorbiorn went 
and took counsel with his fellows, and afterwards came back to 
lllugi, saying, ‘ Since thou art thus minded we have determined 
to slay thee.’ Then said lllugi, ‘ Do thy worst; my heart is not 
afraid.’ So they took lllugi, bound as he was, to the eastern side 
of the island, and there hewed him in pieces with their swords; but 
they could not kill his courage, for lllugi stood and laughed aloud 
whilst the sword-blades smote into his flesh. 

Then Thorbiorn went home; and he took with him Grettir’s 
head and laid it up in salt. 

Now when the time of the Thing was come, there was a great 
gathering of folk; and Thorbiorn Angle came, and set down 
Grettir’s head upon the table before them all, boasting of the 
great deed he had done, and claimed the head-money. But 
Thorir of Garth said, ‘ True it is that I, more than any other 
man, brought about Grettir’s outlawry and set the price upon his 
head. But though I had better reason than other men to hate 
him, I count it shame to have taken his life through subtlety and 
witch-craft; and for that cause I will not pay the price.’ More¬ 
over there came many of Grettir’s kin, who laid their suits 
against Thorbiorn Angle for the slaying of Grettir and lllugi, 
and for dealing in sorcery and forbidden lore, and again for bear¬ 
ing weapons against a sick and helpless man. And it was so, 
now that Grettir was dead and gone, that the hearts of most folk 
were turned towards him, and they deemed him to have suffered 
hardships through his life and to have been ill dealt with in his 
death. So it befell that very few were on Thorbiorn’s side. And 
Stein the Lawman gave judgment on the suit, and said that the 


Grettir the Strong. 451 

head-money should not be paid for so shameful a deed. More¬ 
over he adjudged that the slaying of Thorbiorii’s fellows should 
be taken to quit for the slaying of Illugi and no more; but for 
the blood-suit for Grettir, Thorbiorn Angle should be banished 
out of Iceland, and never come back while any of Grettir’s kin¬ 
dred lived. 

Men went out to Drangey and brought away the bodies of 
Grettir and Illugi, and laid them in the churchyard at Reek- 
strand. But Grettir’s head was taken to Biarg and given to his 
mother Asdis. She buried it in the church upon the homestead. 
Thereafter she spake but little; and she was too old to weep. 
She would sit in the old homestead crooning over the fire all the 
day. Her folk were very gentle to her, and let no care nor 
trouble vex her latter days. 

But Thorbiorn Angle took ship and went to Norway. He 
wandered from town to town, and came at length to Tunsberg, 
where he abode a while, till hearing that Grettir’s brother, Thor- 
stein Dromond, dwelt there, he deemed his life scarce safe in that 
part, and so journeyed away to Micklegartb, and took war-pay 
from the Varangians. Now Thorstein Dromond knew not of 
Angle’s being in Tunsberg till after he had gone away; but as 
soon as he was ware thereof, he called to mind the words he had 
spoken when Grettir made sport of his lean arms. Thorstein 
thereupon sent out spies to follow after Angle and send word 
whither he went. And when he had tidings that Angle was in 
Micklegarth, thither he journeyed after him. But there was much 
p(;ople in that place, making ready to go out to war, and Thor¬ 
stein could learn nothing of the man he sought. They held a 
weapon-show, as was the custom before battle, and the Varan¬ 
gians thronged about it. Now Thorstein Dromond had never in 
his life set eyes on Thorbiorn Angle, neither could he tell by what 
token he should know him. But each day he went in and out 
among the crowd at the weapon-show, and watched the men 
which came to show their weapons. 

One day there came a man who showed a short sword notched 
in the blade. Folk praised the weapon greatly, but said it was 
an ill-hap that so good a blade should have had a shard broken 
out from the midst. Then said the bearer of the short sword, 

‘ With this blade I slew Grettir the Strong, the great Iceland 
champion, and so hard were his neck-bones that I notched the 
sword in smiting off his head.’ And the people which stood 
there took the short sword in their hands and passed it about 
from one to another wondering at the tale. And Thorstein 


45 2 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Dromond also was fain to look upon the blade which had done 
so great a deed. They gave it to him. Straightway he clutched 
the short sword with both hands, uplifted it, and smote it into 
Angle’s skull down to the jawbone. So Thorbiorn Angle got his 
bane from the sword of Grettir. 

But the people laid hold on Thorstein and carried him away to 
the Chancellor of the town to answer for the slaying. Thorstein 
told what good cause he had against Angle, and how far he had 
travelled to avenge his brother’s death ; but the rulers of the 
city said that his tale might be true or not, he had no witnesses, 
and they had one law only for whosoever slew a man, and this 
was that he must die. So they thrust him into a dungeon to 
abide his doom. 


VIII. THE HAPPY GOOD LUCK OF THORSTEIN. 

Thorstein was a man of the greatest good luck in all things 
which he did. There was a wretched prisoner already in the 
dungeon, who, being cast for death did nothing but weep and 
bewail himself. ‘Never lose heart, comrade,’ said Thorstein, 
‘ for if our days be few, the more need is there that we use up all 
our merriment before we die.’ Therewith he began trolling out 
a merry ditty, and all that night made the dungeon walls ring 
with his cheerful songs. Moreover Thorstein had a goodly voice 
and was well skilled to use it. 

And it fell out that a certain great lady of the land, called the 
Lady Spes, was passing by and heard him singing; and she 
thought within herself, ‘Great pity it were that so merry a 
singer should die. And it is certain that he is a brave fellow to 
sing with death hanging over his head.’ So she called to him 
down in the dungeon and said, ‘ Wilt thou take thy life from me 
if I can bring about thy ransom?’ He answered, ‘Nay, good 
mistress, I fret not over much about so poor a thing as life; but 
there is a wretched fellow down here who fears to die. Eansom 
him, and thou shalt do a kindly deed.’ ‘Nay,’ said the lady, ‘ since 
thou art generous as well as brave and merry, I am more than 
ever determined to save thy life; but I deem thy comrade no 
great prize.’ Thorstein answered, ‘ Fair lady, of this one thing I 
am determined; I will share my comrade’s fate, whatever it be. 
Yet now I confess I should be sorry to die ; for since my life has 
been esteemed of thee it is growing precious unto me.’ And the 



453 


GrettU' the Strong. 

Lady Spes thought to herself, ‘He is courteous, heslJe.’ So she went 
straightway to the city rulers and offered a great ransom for the 
two men doomed to die. The Varangians needed money for 
their war; they haggled awhile about the price, but took the 
lady’s gold and set the prisoners free. 

Now the Lady Spes had wedded for wealth’s sake a man far 
beneath her in kindred: a very rich man, old and covetous, 
whose name was Sigurd; and they had little fellowship. So as 
soon as Thorstein came out of gaol she brought him to her own 
house, and lodged him there unknown to her husband, for their 
hearts were turned to one another. She gave Thorstein money 
in abundance, and in sooth she herself began to spend it with a 
libend hand. And Sigurd her husband came to her, saying, 
‘ Strange ways are these. My money is being squandered at a 
wondrous rate; and as for thee, I scarcely see thy‘face at all. 
Strange ways!’ he murmured, and shook his head. The Lady 
Spes tossed hers, and answered : ‘ If a man wed above him, he 
must look for things a little strange. My kindred told thee at 
the first that I should not spare thy goods. Neither have any 
been wont to say to me “So much and no more shalt thou 
bestow,” nor shall I ever suffer them. Talk not then of thy 
dross; but if thou hast aught to lay to my shame, say on.’ He 
answered, ‘ Nay, dear lady, I know not aught for certainty; but 
at times—I do misdoubt me—whether—lest—some other man—’ 
‘ How dare you slander my good name ! What cause have you 
to think—’ (she burst out weeping). ‘This matter shall come 
before the law but I will be righted.’ ‘ Nay,’ said he, ‘ I only 
meant, but I may be wrong—’ ‘ You meant,’ she cried, ‘ to 

slander a true wife. This comes of wedding a man of low kin!’ 
and flounced out of the room. 

But Spes and Thorstein loved always together; and so many 
friends they made by squandering Sigurd’s gold that none cared 
to say aught against them. And it fell upon a day when the 
pair were talking merrily together in a loft, that the lady bade 
Thorstein sing her a ditty. For she said, ‘ My goodman is sitting 
over his drink, and never comes this way.’ With that she made 
fast the door and Thorstein began to sing. But he had scarce 
got through a stave when the husband at the head of all his 
servants came hammering without. In a moment the lady 
opened a chest wherein she kept her fairest raiment, locked 
Thorstein therein and sate upon it. ‘ Pray come in,’ she cried; 
‘or stay, is the door fastened? I will undo it.’ She shot the 
bolt, saying, ‘Haste thee, husband; for surely thy foes arc in 


454 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

pursuit, that thou makest such an uproar/ ‘ Woman,’ he said, 
‘ I have found thee out; where is the man that was singing here 
but now?’ She said, ‘Thou art surely crazed. I-see no man 
here. Thou art all too cunning. But a fool is wise if he will 
hold his tongue.’ The old man searched about, but could find 
nothing. ‘ Why dost thou not take the man,’ said the goodwife, 
‘if he be here?’ Sigurd shook his head; and he said to his 
servants, ‘ Did ye not hear a man singing in this place awhile 
ago ?’ But his servants would have naught to say against their 
mistress, so they answered : ‘ Of a surety we thought we did, 
but it is plain we are mistaken. None can say certainly as to 
sound whence it comes. Sounds have strange ways.’ So Sigurd 
gave it up; and after that his dame led him such a life that for 
a long time he durst not spy on her any more. 

Another day it befell, when the Lady Spes was in the cloth- 
bower with Thorstein, that Sigurd came and rummaged all about, 
but could find no man ; for the goodwife had hidden him under¬ 
neath the pile of store-cloths; and the cloths were all smoothed 
out so trimly that none would have deemed them to have been 
disturbed. 

The castle wherein the Lady Spes dwelt was built over the 
sea, the water flowing underneath it, and round the pillars ; and 
she had a secret way made, with a little trapdoor leading from 
the floor of her chamber down to the sea, and fitted so cunningly 
that it seemed but the joints of the boarding. Now one time 
Sigurd told his wife that he must needs go away on a long 
journey; but instead of going, he hid himself about the place 
and watched. When they thought him gone, Thorstein and 
Spes made merry together and w'ere seldom apart. One day 
Sigurd came out from his hiding, and after spying about awhile 
he saw the Lady Spes let a man in at the gateway of the castle. 
Then he heard the sound of singing in a chamber, and clambering 
up to the window, lo ! he saw a man with her; and they were 
both laughing as merrily as might be. The goodman stole away 
softly, and went and called his neighbours, and gathered half 
the town together to come and see if what he told them was Lot 
true. But the Lady Spes heard the clamour of the crowd, and. 
sent Thorstein down through the trapdoor into the sea, bidding 
him give her a token if he came safe to land. So when one part 
of the folk came and looked in at the window, there was naught 
to be seen save a lady sitting all alone, and toying with the rings 
upon her hands. And the other part of the folk, which went 
into the castle with Sigurd, found the chamber door ajar, but no 


455 


Grettir the Strong. 

man therein. So all that Sigurd gat for his pains was the jeering 
of the crowd for bringing them on a fool’s errand. ‘ Good people/ 
said he, ‘ I certainly beheld a man within this chamber.’ The 
folk believed him not, but said, ‘ Overmuch wine will make a 
man see double; the double of a woman is a man, to make a 
pair ; old eyes will have strange ways.’ Then was the goodman 
very wroth, and said to his wife, ‘ Lo, these three times hast thou 
outwitted me; but since I am now befooled in sight of all the 
people, thou shalt go before the bishop, and purge thee by oath 
in this matter.’ She answered, ‘ Thou hast done very foolishly ; 
nevertheless for my own sake, and to free me from the slander, I 
deem it meet that I should go.’ 

When the folk were gone away, the lady watched all night, 
and toward morning saw a fire burning on the land. Then she 
knew that Thorstein was come safe to shore; for that was the 
sign they had agreed on. And while Sigurd was gone next day 
to lay the accusation against her before the bishop, Thorstein and 
she were together planning how she should be cleared. 

Now the day being come when the Lady Spes should go to 
make her oath, she attired herself in the richest apparel that she 
had, and went forth with a great company of noble ladies to the 
church. The rain had fallen heavily for many days before, and 
over against the porch was a slough of mire which must needs be 
crossed to get to the church. A great multitude of folk was 
gathered together, and among them were many beggars asking 
alms of the passers-by. And a certain cripple, a hoary-bear<led 
man, in tattered garments, who went on crutches, perceived how 
fairly Spes was arrayed, and came to her saying, ‘ Suffer me, I 
pray, to bear thee over the mire.’ She answered : ‘ How shalt 
thou bear a burden that scarce canst bear thyself V ‘Nay, lady,’ 
said he, ‘ but it may be that thou shalt fare none the worse for 
making thyself lowly toward the poor.’ Then she suffered herself 
to be lifted on the churl’s back, and he hobbled along with her 
into the slough. But when they were come into the midst of it, 
the beggar man seemed to get but poor hold for his crutches, for 
he began to stumble and to stagger from side to side. ‘ Gather 
up thy strength,’ cried the lady, ‘ for if thou lettest me fall it 
shall go hard with thee.’ The old man staggered wildly forward, 
and missing his crutch-hold, swooped off* sideways, and scarce had 
cast the lady upon land, when he fell headlong in the mire. He 
floundered about and sought to catch the hem of her skirt to save 
himself. She, with a shudder for fear her sumptuous robe should 
be polluted, snatched it smartly from him, so his miry hand came 


45 ^ Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

down on her bare knee. The Lady Spes sprang up and cursed 
the churl, and vowed that he should be beaten. He pleaded his 
great age and misery; and the people seeing how poor and wretched 
he looked, made intercession for him. So the goodwife took the 
purse from her side, shook the gold pieces into the beggar’s lap, 
and blaming still his awkwardness, went straightway to the 
church. 

Then when they were come before the bishop, the accusations 
against her were fully set forth. And the Lady Spes declared 
herself a good woman, and made oath saying, ‘ I swear that I am 
clean as concerning all other men beside my lord, save of that 
cripple who openly defiled me this day; and to none other have 
I given at any time of my husband^s gold.’ Now this being 
deemed a full oath, her kindred began to say that it was a shame 
for false charges thus to be brought against a lady of high estate. 
And so hard they pushed matters that they prevailed upon the 
bishop to make out a divorce betwixt her and Sigurd. And inas¬ 
much as Sigurd was held to have forsworn himself and to have 
done very wickedly in bringing such lying slanders to her charge, 
he was driven out from the land, as a warning to other husbands 
who might else be minded to do the like; and all his possessions 
were adjudged to the Lady Spes to make amends for what she 
had suffered. All people pitied her and held her to have been 
greatly ill-used. But soon afterwards it began to be whispered 
that the cripple which had carried her over the slough was noiivi 
other than Thorstein, and that some wise man had taught her 
how to swear an oath that sounded sooth the while it beguiled 
the bishop. However that may be, it came to pass that, not very 
long after Spes was divorced from her husband, and had taken to 
herself all his money, Thorstein came wooing her. And since her 
kinsmen left her free to do as she desired, Spes wedded with 
Thorstein and brought him all her riches. Thereafter they dwelt 
in the goodliest fellowship one with another. All things pros¬ 
pered whereto they set their hands, and their possessions increased 
continually, for all that they were the most bountiful in their 
dealings. 

But after a time Thorstein being minded to go back to his 
home and kinsfolk, they sold their lands and their chattels and 
went away into Norway. There they dwelt many years together 
in great love and contentment, until old age crept upon them 
both. 

And when Thorstein was threescore and seven years old, yet 
hale withal, he bethought him to go up to the court of King 


457 


Grettir the Strong, 

HaraW to do him service; but his wife besought iiim saying, 
‘ Husband, there is somewhat I fain would speak, that has often 
heeaon my mind of late.’ And he said ‘Say on.’ Then spake 
she, ‘ More meet it were to go to another King to whom we have 
more to pay. For lo, our youth is departed, and our days have 
been given overmuch to the pleasures of this world. Wherefore 
I will that we change our ways and seek after those things which 
shall make our everlasting welfare ; to which end let us fare away 
to Eome-town and get our souls in health.’ Thorstein answered, 
‘ In all things I will as thou wiliest.’ 

Then Thorstein gathered all his kinsfolk together, and spake to 
them concerning the journey whereon he was bent. And he 
divided his goods before them, and gave one half to his kindred. 
And the portion that remained to him he divided J^gain, and gave 
half of it for the founding of churches aud chantries, and to 
distribute amongst the poor and needy. When he had so done 
he bade farewell to them all, and he and his wife fared away to 
Kome. There they made their shrift, and confessing by what 
subtile craft they had been joined in wedlock, gave themselves 
wholly to prayer and penance for the amending of their lives. 
Thenceforth they made a vow to dwell apart in chastity, to the 
end that they might more surely count on fellowship together 
above. So they told out money to build two stone cells; and 
when the cells were ready they prayed together, and parted at the 
doors. Thorstein entered into his cell; Spes into hers. The 
doors were shut; and neither looked upon the other’s face again 
in this world. 


^unnliiitg itnii the Jiiir Deign. 


Thorstein Egilson was chief among the Icelanders in Burgfirth, 
and kept house at Burg. EgiPs kin have ever keen renowned 
amongst the Marshmen; Thorstein was, moreover, a man of 
great estate; and his counsel was highly esteemed at the Thing, for 
he was weU versed in law, wise-minded withal, and temperate of 
speech. 

One summer Thorstein rode off to the coast, as his wont was, 
to buy wares out of the merchant ships that came from the main¬ 
land. He bought such goods as he stood in need of against the 
winter from the master of a Norse vessel, and getting friendly 
over their bargain, he and the skipper lodged together some days 
and went up to the Thing together. 

And on a sunny afternoon Thorstein fell dozing in a booth and 
laboured heavily in his sleep. The skipper watching beside him 
marked how hard a time he had of it, but would in nowise 
disturb him till his sleep was out. And when Tho'rstein woke 
up wearied from his restless tossing, the skipper asked him, 

‘Hast thou dreamed aught V ‘I dreamed,’ said Thorstein; ‘but 
a dream is naught. I will tell it thee if thou wilt, to pass the 
time. Methought in my dream that I beheld the roof-ridge of 
my house at Burg, and a goodly white swan had lighted there. 
The swan seemed mine, and very fair and precious it was in my 
sight. Then came an eagle, black of eye, which swooped down 
from the mountains and nestling against the swan, cooed lovingly 
to her; and the swan seemed glad thereof. But presently another 
eagle came flying from southward and sought to woo the swan. 
The first eagle ruffled up his plumes and set on him : they fought 
fiercely together, beak and claw, till both being torn and covered 
with blood, the eagles fell dead together, and tumbled backwards, 
one on either side the roof-ridge. The swan sat lonely on the 
house-roof, drooping and very. sad. An idle dream, my friend, 
betokening perchance that the wind will blow next winter from 
the quarters whence the eagles flew.’ 

But the skipper answered, ‘ Make not so light of dreams; and 


Gunnlaiig ajid the Fair Helga, 45 ) 

as for this one which thou hast dreamed, I will foreshow thee 
what it signifieth. The fair white swan thou sawest on thy roof- 
ridge is a daughter which thy wife shall bear to thee. The 
eagles are two men of high kindred that shall love her overmu(;h, 
for which cause they will fight together and both lose their lives.' 

‘ An ill dream-reader art thou,’ said Thorstein, ‘ and I deem 
thou hast read mine in no friendly fashion.’ The skipper’s 
words misliked him; and he parted company with the man and 
came home to Burg. 

Now as next summer drew on Thorstein was in some fear lest 
the skipper’s words should be fulfilled. And before he rode off 
to the Thing he called Jofrid his wife and said to her, ‘Now I 
charge thee straightly concerning thy child when it shall be 
born; if it be a woman-child thou shalt cast it forth, but if a 
man-child thou mayest nurture it.’ Then Jofrid '[Jeaded with 
him, saying, ‘ Surely a wicked thing it were for a man of thine 
estate to do a deed that is looked on with ill-favour even when 
wrought by poor folk who have many children and scarce bread 
enough to feed them.’ But he answered, ‘ Thou knowest my 
mind ; take heed and do as I have bidden theeand therewith 
rode off to the Thing. 

Soon after he was gone Jofrid gave birth to a woman child, fair 
as eyes ever looked upon, and being in fear of her lord, she sent 
privily for her shepherd and said, ‘ I cannot cast forth this little 
one. Wherefore take and saddle my horse and carry the babe 
westwards to Herdholt. My husband’s sister Thorgerd dwells 
there. Pray her to nourish it for me for kindred’s sake, and not 
to tell my lord. Here are three marks of silver for thee. Thor¬ 
gerd will get thee away across the sea, where Thorstein shall 
never know.’ The shepherd took the child and wrapped it 
warm and rode away with it to Thorgerd. She gave it to a woman 
on her homestead to nourish and bring up; moreover she gave 
the shepherd an outfit for sea-faring and got him out of the 
land. 

When Thorstein came home Jofrid told him that the child 
had been cast forth as he had commanded, and also that 
their shepherd had fled and stolen her horse. Thorstein was 
well pleased, thinking that a horse more or less, or a runaway 
herdsman, was naught to make ado about. So for six years he 
wist not that the child was alive. . 

But as time went on it befell that Thorstein was bidden by his 
brother-in-law to a feast, and so came over to Herdholt. And 
one day after meat Thorgerd his sister brought in three little 


460 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

maidens, and setting them on a bench over against Thorstein, 
asked what he thought of them. He answered, ‘ They are fair 
children, sister; but one is by far the fairest; and that one iw: 
more the look of us Mere-folk than of thy husband.’ ‘ Aye,’ she 
said, ‘ and so it may well happen, for that is not my husband's 
child.’ ‘ How cometh that to pass,’ said Thorstein, ^ foT. sui ely 
she is thy daughter?’ ‘Nay,’ said his sister, ‘not mine, but 
thine,’ and with that told him what had been done, and besought 
his forgiveness both for his wife and for herself. And behold as 
Thorstein looked upon the little maid there came into his heart 
a great love for the child, and he said to his sister, ‘ I blame 
neither of you, but am debtor to you both for thus hiding my 
folly. And now tell me how you have named her ? ’ Thorgerd 
answered, ‘Helga the Fair.’ Thorstein took his little daughter 
in his arms and Kissed her, saying, ‘ Eightly have you named her, 
for she is fairer than all others.’ And he bade his sister make 
ready the child to go home with him; and he took her back to 
his wife Jofrid, and the little maid endeared herself to her father 
and mother and all her kindred by her winning ways. 

Next after Thorstein, Illugi the Black was the man of most 
account in Burgfirth. He had many sons, but the goodliest was 
the youth Gunnlaug, who had dark eyes and waving red hair; he 
was thin in the flank, broad-chested and stately of growth ; frank 
of speech and a good skald; and forasmuch as his words were 
apt to be stinging, men called him Gunnlaug of the Worm- 
tongue. 

When he was fifteen years old his father sent him to Thorstein 
to learn law-craft, and he abode with Thorstein some seasons. 
Gunnlaug and Helga were then near^of an age, and Gunnlaug liked 
far better to sit at chess-playing with Helga than to puzzle over 
law-craft with her father. They were always together, and a 
great love grew up between them, albeit for long none knew of it 
but they twain. Very fair was Helga; fairer than any maid in 
Iceland before or since. Her hair was like braids of gold, and so 
plentiful that it clothed her to her feet. 

As Thorstein made merry one day in his hall with many other 
folk Gunnlaug came to him and said, ‘ Much of law thou hast 
showed me, but there is one other thing I fain would learn, and 
that is how to woo a wife.’ So Thorstein told him how; but 
none the more content was Gunnlaug. He said, ‘Nay, but I 
would that thou shouldest try if I understand it aright. Where¬ 
fore let me now make as though I were wooing thy daughter 
Helga.’ Thorstein liked this little: howbeit to please the com 


Gunnlaug and. the Fair Helga, 461 

pany he consented, but said, * Take notice, all folk present, that 
this wooing is but in sport, and whatsoever words are spoken 
shall go for naught, neither shall any pledge follow hereon.* 
Then Helga came forth, blushing like snow at sunrise. And 
Gunnlaug took the right hand of Thorstein her father, and wooed 
Helga of him, and named to himself witnesses from them which 
stood by. Then Gunnlaug asked Thorstein if wooing .in that 
sort would stand good in law. ‘ Aye,’ said he, ‘ methinks thou hast 
learned this lesson quicker than thy wont.’ And the folk at 
Thorstein’s table waxed merry at all this. 

To the south of Burg, down in Mossfell, dwelt Onund, a man 
of very great riches, who had a bold strong son just come of age, 
called Kafn the Sk.ald. And Onund gave his son money and a 
goodly outfit that he might fare away into other lands and see 
the manners of strange countries and make himself a name. 

And after Gunnlaug had sojourned three winters with Thorstein, 
he also, being minded to fare abroad, came home to Illugi his 
father and asked for faring goods. So his father fitted him out 
and bought him a half share in a ship that was going to Norway. 
But while his partner was making the vessel ready for sea, 
Gunnlaug must needs go and loiter about at Thorstein’s house, for 
he was fain to be where Helga was. And as the time drew on for 
the ship to sail he grew wonderly loth to go. Then Thorstein 
said he would give him a parting gift, and taking him away to 
the stables where he kept his stud-horses he chose out an unbroken 
chestnut, very spirited and well bred, and bade Gunnlaug keep it 
for his own. But Gunnlaug shook his head, saying he cared little 
about horses and would not have it. Thorstein had four powerful 
mares, and the best grey horse in Burgfirth; and he prayed 
Gunnlaug to take his choice amongst them all, for that he certainly 
should have a gift. Howbeit Gunnlaug would have naught to do 
with them. He said, ‘ If thou art truly minded to give me a gift, 
give me, I pray, the gift that I shall ask of thee.’ ‘ And what is 
that r said Thorstein. ‘ Helga the Fair,’ he answered. 

Then Thorstein frowned, and would not speak at all of that 
matter, but talked of other things till they got back to the house. 
But as soon as they were set down Gunnlaug said, ‘ Thou hast 
not answered me.’ ‘ In sooth, no,’ said Thorstein ; ‘ I heed not 
vain talk.’ ‘ I have spoken my whole mind,’ said Gunnlaug, ‘ and 
mine are no vain words.’ Thorstein answered, ‘As yet thou 
knowest not thy mind. Thou art greatly unsettled, and bound 
to fare abroad. How then shouldest thou wive ? Besides, I do 
not count thee to be her match. No, I will not hear of it.’ Then 


462 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

Gunnlaug fired up and said, ‘ Not her match! If the son of Illugi 
the Black be not a match for thy daughter, where wilt thou find 
in Burgfirth a man of better kinl’ Then said Thorstein, ‘Wert 
thou a staid and settled man like thy father, maybe I should not 
turn thee away. But there is many a man whom I esteem a 
better match for my daughter than thou. There is Eafn the 
Skald, there are Thorfinn’s seven sons, all men of good estate.’ 
‘And none of them of kin so good as mine,’ said Gunnlaug ; ‘true, 
thou art of the race of Egil; but hast thou at any time done a 
deed such as my father when he fought with Thorgrim the Godi 
and his sons at Thornes Thing ‘ 1 care not to liken myself to 
other men,’ said Thorstein, ‘ but this I know, I drave out Steinar, 
the son of Onund Sjoni, and folk reckoned that was somewhat of 
a deed.’ ‘Thou dravest him out forsooth,’ said Gunnlaug, ‘when 
thou hadst gotten Egil thy father to come and help thee. But 
our kin are more wont to trust to their own right hands than to 
their fathers’ swords.’ So Thorstein waxed angry and bade him 
carry his bragging up to the mountains, for that it would avail 
him little down there in the marshes. 

Then came Gunnlaug home to his father and besought him to 
ride over to Thorstein with him to woo Helga. And Illugi said, 
‘ My son, thy mind ought to be wholly set on ship matters and on 
thy faring abroad. Why busy thyself now about wife-wooing, 
the more so as it is not at all to Thorstein’s mind % ’ But Gunn¬ 
laug in treated him, saying that he would go abroad just the same, 
but that he could not give his mind to aught else till this matter 
was settled. So Illugi rode over with Gunnlaug next day and 
greeted Thorstein and said, ‘ My son has had some talk with thee 
about wooing thy daughter Helga, and I cannot get him away till 
he knows what will come of it. We are neighbours and friends, 
long known to one another, and if for old friendship’s sake thou 
canst say yes, I shall be well pleased, and wiU spare neither land 
nor gold when Gunnlaug weds.’ 

Thorstein said, ‘ I see naught against it, save that Gunnlaug is 
a roving man. Were he like thee I would not say thee nay.’ 

Illugi answered, ‘ Then will our friendship come to an end, for 
it is plain to me that thou deemest my son not good enough for 
thee.’ 

‘ Nay,’ said Thorstein, ‘ it is not so. It is only because he is 
unsettled. But rather than lose thy friendship, this much will I 
do; Helga shall be the vowed maiden of Gunnlaug, and tarry 
three winters for him, but I will not betroth her to him. In that 
time let him rove and shape his ways. If in three years he come 


Gzumlaitg and the Fair Helga. 463 

not back, or coming, if his ways mislike me, I shall be free to 
wed Helga to whom I will.’ 

So with that bond the two friends went their way. Gunnlaug 
and Helga kissed and parted; he with a light heart hied off to 
his ship and sailed for Norway, and left her radiant with a joy 
that shone out through her parting tears. 

Yarl Eric and his brother Svein ruled Norway then, and being 
come to land, Gunnlaug took six of his ship-fellows witli him, and 
leaving the rest to unload the merchandise, came up to Hladir, at 
Drontheim, where the Yarl kept court. The Yarl saw as they 
came into the hall that Gunnlaug had a great and very painful 
boil upon his instep, wherefrom came blood and matter as he 
walked; yet Gunnlaug flinched nothing, but strode along the 
firmest of them all. And Yarl Eric said, ‘Icelander, what ails thy 
foot V ‘A boil,’ said he. ‘ Why then dost thou not walk lame?’ 
asked the Yarl. Gunnlaug answered, scornful of the pain, ‘ AVliy 
should a man walk lame while both legs are of one length ? ’ 
The Yarl said, ‘How old art thou?’ ‘Eighteen winters,’ 
answered Gunnlaug. Then said Yarl Eric, ‘A man of so sharp a 
tongue will not live eighteen winters more without good prayers 
for him.’ Gunnlaug muttered something. ‘ What saidst thou, 
Icelander?’ asked the Yarl. ‘Pray rather for thyself than me,’ 
said Gunnlaug. ‘ What have I to pray for ? ’ said Eric. ‘ Pray,’ 
answered the Icelander, ‘ that thou be not slain by a thrall in the 
first hiding-place whereinto thou sneakest, even as Hakon thy 
father was.’ The Yarl flushed up blood-red, and called to his 
men to seize the Icelander; but he thought better of it, and bade 
them instead to tell Gunnlaug, if he held his life of any account, 
to begone at once and never more set foot within the realm. 

So Gunnlaug went down to the shore, and finding a ship bound 
for England took a passage therein, and after a fair voyage, came 
sailing up Thames river to London Bridge about the time of 
autumn. 

In those days ^thelred was King of England and kept court 
in London; and they spake the Norse tongue throughout the land, 
which indeed prevailed until William the Bastard won England 
and changed the tongue to French. And Gunnlaug came to 
King ^thelred saying, ‘ I have made a royal song in thine 
honour which I fain would sing.’ Then the King commanded to 
keep silence vdiilst the song was sung; and straightway Gunnlaug 
gave forth a right worthy song, the burden whereof was the 
might and majesty of the King of England. Well pleased was 
HEthelred with the skald, and for a song-gift he gave Gunnlaug a 


4.64 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

scarlet cloak glittering to the hem with gold embroidep^, and 
iined with precious furs. Moreover he made Gunnlaug his man, 
and took an oath of service from him. 

One morning early, when London streets were lonesome, three 
men met Gunnlaug, and their leader, a burly man of evil eye, 
named Thororm, stopped him saying, ‘ Northman, lend me some 
money, and on such and such a day I will repay thee.’ Then 
said Gunnlaug, ‘ Thou art unknown to me ; nevertheless take the 
money and see thou keep thy word.’ A while after, this coming 
to the King’s ears, ^thelred spake to Gunnlaug, saying, ‘ Thou 
hast done foolishly, for the man Thororm is the greatest robber 
and the strongest viking in the land. Howbeit, take no thought 
for thy money; I will repay thee; but have no more dealings 
with this man.’ But Gunnlaug said, ‘ Nay, I have no mind to 
gather my debts save from my debtors; and a shame it were for 
us, the King’s men, to be put in fear of any.’ Therewith 
Gunnlaug went and sought out the viking and said to him, ‘ Pay 
me that thou owest within three days, or else I will come and 
take it from thee.’ Thororm laughed and said that when folk 
asked him for lendings of gold he was ready to pay them back 
with steel. So Gunnlaug came again to the King and told how 
he was going to fight the viking within three days. And the 
King said, ‘ It has ill befallen; for this man’s eyes can dull the 
edge of any blade. Nevertheless I have a sword that is proof 
against evil craft; that shalt thou take.’ And it was so that 
when Gunnlaug went out to do battle with Thororm, the viking 
said, ‘ Let me look upon thy sword, Northman.’ And Gunnlaug 
drew forth his own blade from its sheath and showed him, but 
the King’s sword he kept slung on his left wrist by a loop and 
hidden behind his shield. The viking said, ‘I fear not that 
sword,’ and thereupon set on Gunnlaug and cut his shield atwain. 
Gunnlaug drew the King’s gift, and the viking, weening it had 
been the sword he had looked upon, recked not so much as to 
ward off the blow; so the sword smote him and slew him. 

Gunnlaug got great renown for this deed all over England ; but 
when spring was come he told the King that he must fare 
away to other lands. So King ^thelred gave him a gold ring 
that weighed six ounces, and let him depart, but charged him by 
his fealty to come back in autumn-tide next year. Then Gunn¬ 
laug sailed for Ireland, and came and sang at the court of King 
Si^rygg at Dublin. From him he received rich gifts of scarlet 
raiment, a tunic gold-broidered, and a gold ring worth a mark. 
Thence he went north to the Orkneys and abode the winter with 


Gtmnlattg and the Fair Helga. 465 

Yarl Sigurd, and afterwards took ship again and came to Upsala 
in Sweden, where King Olaf had set up his throne, and all his 
noblest counsellors and warriors were gathered about him. 

And when King Olaf knew Gunnlaug for an Icelandman, he 
greeted him well and said, ‘ We have here already a man of some 
note from thy country. Go thou and sit beside him.’ Then 
Gunnlaug said, ‘What is his name, lord, that I may know him?’ 
The King answered, ‘ Kafn the Skald.’ 

Gunnlaug had heard the folk at Burgfirth talk of Rafn the 
Skald who dwelt down south in Mossfell, but had never yet set eyes 
on him; and when he now beheld Rafn an ill boding seemed to 
come into his mind. But the two men sate together and made 
friends and spake one to another of their travels; and the fore¬ 
boding passed. 

Now on a day w^hen they were both before the King Gunnlaug 
spake to King Olaf, saying, ‘ Lord, I pray thee hearken to a song 
which I have brought thee.’ Eafn spake also, saying, ‘ 0 King, 
I have likewise brought a song, and since I was the first to come 
to thee, I pray thee hear mine first.’ Then Gunnlaug turned 
upon him saying, ‘ In what ship came thy father forth, that mine 
was in the little boat towed behind?’ ‘ Nay,’ answered Kafn, ‘I 
will not bandy words with thee. The King shall rule.’ And 
Olaf said, ‘ We will first hear Gunnlaug’s song, since he spake first.’ 

Then Gunnlaug gave forth a noble song with a fair burden to 
it; and they which stood about the King with one accord said it 
was a worthy song; all save Eafn, and he spake not. And the 
King said, ‘What sayest thou, Eafn; is the song well done?’ 

‘ Well enough,’ he answered; ‘ big words and sounding rhymes; 
a lack of smoothness; rough and uncouth as the singer’s mood.’ 
Thereon the King bade Eafn put forth his song; and when it 
was done the King said to Gunnlaug, ‘ What thinkest thou of 
this?’ Gunnlaug answered, ‘Lord, it is like him—smug and 
pretty, like the singer; mean and little, like the singer’s soul; 
but ill befitting thy degree. Knowest thou not, Eafn, a king- 
song from a yarl-song, but must needs bring thy short-song with¬ 
out burden to offer to a King? Thou art meeter for yarls’ 
company than kings’.’ Thus was Eafn put to shame before the 
King and all his chiefs; for it was reckoned an ill thing to have 
brought a yarl-song without burden to a king. He said to 
Gunnlaug, ‘ I will talk with thee hereafter on this matter, but 
not now.’ And when they met again Eafn said, ‘ Thou hast cut 
our friendship in twain; but the day will come when I shall put 


466 Popula 7 ^ Romances of the Middle Ages, 

thee to no less shame than I have taken at thy hands.’ Guiinlaug 
laughed and in his heart despised the threat. 

Soon after, liafn prayed King Olaf to give him his dismissal, and 
having received of the King his parting gifts, he set out by sea and 
came to Iceland. Summer passed, and winter, and summer came 
again; and Eafn went up to the Thing and there met his kins¬ 
man Skapti tlie Lawman. And he said to him, Wilt thou give 
me thy help in an undertaking I have in hand V ‘ Aye,’ answered 
Skapti, ‘if it be lawful and right. What is it?’ He said, ‘I 
would fain woo Helga the Fair.’ Skapti said, ‘That may not be, 
for she is already the vowed maiden of Gunnlaug of the Worm- 
tongue.’ ‘ The time is out,’ answered Kafn, ‘ and Gunnlaug will 
not come back. A year ago I left him at King Olaf s court. He 
is waxed wanton and careth more for new faces than old ones. 
Help me, I pray thee.’ 

Then Skapti said he would do what he might, and Thorstein 
Egilson being likewise at the Thing, he went straightway to 
his booth and laid before him Rafn’s suit, urging liis good 
blood, his great wealth, and his strong kinsmen. Thorstein 
answered, ‘ I passed my word to Gunnlaug, and that word I will 
keep, even beyond what holdeth good in law, lest any man 
reproach me hereafter. It is true three winters have gone 
already, but the third summer is not past, and Gunnlaug yet 
may come. Leave the matter till next summer. Meantime I 
promise nothing, but then I think I should feel free.’ So the 
Thing broke up and men went home. 

Summer passed, and winter; and summer came again. Helga 
sat and sighed; for Gunnlaug came not, and her betrothal to 
Eafn was openly talked of. And the time of the Thing being 
again come round, Thorstein went up thither and met Skapti the 
Lawman there. And Skapti urged him strongly, saying that he 
was free both in law and honour. But Thorstein answered, ‘ I 
have but one daughter, and I am in great fear lest she should 
become a cause of strife to any; wherefore let me first go and see 
Gunnlaug’s father.’ With that he went away and found Illugi 
the Black, and said to him, ‘ How sayest thou ? In all rightwise 
meaning am I not now free from my pledge to thy son V Illugi 
answered, ‘ I have nought to say further than that thou hast kept 
thy troth right truly to me and to my son. Of a surety thou art 
free. Yet I cannot understand why Gunnlaug comes not back to 
fetch his bride.’ Then Thorstein went again to Skapti and made 
a covenant with him, that if Gunnlaug came not back, Kafn 
should wed with Helga on the first day of winter; but if he came 


Giuinlaug and the Fair Helga, 467 

80 much as an hour before the wedding, the covenant should bo 
void. 

Now to tell why Gunnlaug came not back to claim his bride. 
That same summer when Kafn left Olaf s court, Gunnlaug departed 
from Sweden and sailed for England to redeem his pledge to 
King ^thelred. He landed at Loudon in the autumn according 
to his promise; and there he found H^thelred in deadly fear 
because the great Cnut, but newly come to the throne of 
Denmark in the room of his father Svein, had vowed to war 
against England. And since Svein had before come down on 
England many times, and left a strong garrison of Danishmen 
under Heming, son of Yarl Harald, to keep their footing upon 
English ground, ^thelred was in a great strait for fear of the 
Danes, and bound down every man to stay and fight foi* him; so 
Gunnlaug for his oath’s sake durst not go. However, as it 
chanced, winter set in, and changed to summer and back again to 
winter, but no Danes came. Yet Hllthelred kept him lingering 
there far on to another summer, and then finding, spite of all his 
fears, that Cnut and his Danes came not, Hllthelred let Gunnlaug 
.go. And because Gunnlaug knew the time was overpast, he 
entered into the first ship he could find going northwards; and 
that was a ship bound for Norway. This was the same summer 
when Thorstein made the covenant with Skapti. 

Gunnlaug feared not now to go to Norway, save for the wasting 
of the time, inasmuch as some messengers of Yarl Eric at the 
Orkneys by chance had heard him sing a song in praise of their 
lord, and Yarl Eric, learning this, had caused it to be made 
known that there was peace henceforth for Gunnlaug through his 
realm. So being come to Drontheim he was well greeted of Yarl 
Eric, at his court at llladir. Bat the last ship bound for Icelaml 
had sailed five days before. Nevertheless Yarl Eric, having 
learned what errand he was on, said that Gunnlaug should not be 
delayed from his bride by any slackness on his part. And 
straightway the Yarl had a swift barge put out to sea and 
manned with the brawniest fellows he could pick. ‘ Now,’ said 
he, ‘ row hard for Hallfred Vandrseda-Skald’s ship; that left the 
last; and since for five days the wind has blown dead on shore 
he can have made but little headway.’ So they rowed, aiid by 
good-hap overtook the ship ; and Hallfred took Gunnlaug aboard, 
and a fair wind arose and bore them away toward Iceland. And 
all that voyage Gunnlaug made songs of his remembered maiden. 

But as ill-luck would have it, though they came to shore two 
weeks before the first day of winter, they landed in Hraunhaven, 


468 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

a weary way from Burgfirth. And no sooner were they come out 
of the ship than a lout of a farmer’s son, named Thord, fell to 
wrestling with the mariners, and got the better of them all, so 
that it was settled that next day he should match himself against 
Gunnlaug. On the morrow they had a wrestling bout together, and 
the end of it was that Thord, having both feet kicked from under 
him, got a fall upon his back that drave the breath nigh out of 
him. Nevertheless in that wrestling Gunnlaug put his ancle out 
of joint. Stout at heart as ever, he tried to walk, but could not, 
and fell down in a swoon. However, his companions got the 
ancle into joint again, and having swathed it up, went about the 
country to borrow horses for their journey. This took some 
days, for there were twelve of them in all, and so it befell that 
Gunnlaug and Ms comrades rode into Burgfirth on that same 
Saturday night in mid-October when, the wedding being over, 
Eafn sat at the marriage feast with fair Helga, his bride. 

So Gunnlaug came too late upon that winter night. He heard 
the sound of merriment at Thorstein’s house, and saw the cheer¬ 
ful wood fire gleam as he rode by; and knew it was too late. 
He durst not go in, but rode to his father’s house, and there 
abode apart from his kin. He spake but little; and it seemed as 
though the winter gloom had fallen upon him. 

The bride, folks said, was drooping. And some called to mind 
the old saw, ‘ First love is last forgot.’ 

Many a wooing comes of a wedding. And it befell at Helga’s 
marriage-feast that a man named Sverting wooed Hungerd the 
daughter of Thorod to be his wife. They were to wed at Yule- 
tide, and Eafn and Helga were bidden to the marriage. So the 
feast came to an end and Eafn rode home to Mossfell with his 
bride. 

But Helga had seen folks whispering together, and here and 
there had caught a word whereby she knew that Gunnlaug had 
come home. And after that Eafn gat small comfort of his wife. 
She would pace about her strange new home like something in a 
cage; her husband’s riches she esteemed for naught; and of all 
the fair raiment and bright jewels which he gave her to put on 
she recked nothing. But round the farmstead, or away upon the 
hills, 'she wandered at her will; least wretched only when alone, 
and free to call on Gunnlaug’s name. 

Now at Yule-tide Illugi the Black and his son Gunnlaug were 
bidden to Hungerd’s wedding feast, which was to be held at 
Skaney. And Illugi made ready to go, but Gunnlaug stirred not 
from the hall. And when they urged him he only answered, ‘ J 


469 


G7mnlaug and the Fair Helga. 

Ain not going.’ Then said his father to him, Sit not here for 
ever grieving. Helga is another’s. It is now too late.’ ‘ Aye,' 
said his son, ‘ too late.’ ‘ Then get thee up and wear a merry 
face. ’Tis better than to wear thine heart upon thy sleeve. But 
waste not time in sorrow for a woman. There are many in the 
world ; and a man like thee may take his choice.’ Then Gunn- 
laug said that he would go; and he arose and came with his father 
to the wedding-feast at Skaney. 

There, on the high seat next the bride, sat Helga the Fail, 
her cheeks snow-pale, and a ivistful longing in her eyes. Gunn- 
laug looked on her, and the colour flushed into her face as though 
the sun had shone. He was the comeliest man in all the com 
pany, and richly clad in the gold and scarlet raiment which the 
King of Ireland gave him. Helga stole many a glance, at him, 
whereby the truth of the saying w'as made plain, ‘ If a woman 
fain would hide her love, her eyes must needs betray her.’ But 
not until the ’ end of the feast could they get speech together. 
Then, while the men were making ready to depart, Helga and 
Gunnlaug talked for a little space. Bitterly spake Gunnlaug, 
and he said, ‘ A curse on them which snatched the joy-cup from 
our thirsting lips 1 A curse on them which wedded thee to g(fld 
and lands, and cared not that they made an endless winter of our 
lives ! ’ Tears were in Helga’s eyes, and tears in his. But she 
shook back her heavy golden hair and lifted her lips to him. In 
both his hands he took the upturned face, and kissed it tenderly. 
So they talked and talked, in joy and bitterness, until the folk 
came back arrayed for journeying. 

Then Gunnlaug said that he had not yet given a wedding-gift 
to Helga, and he brought forth the cloak. King ^Kthelred’s gift, 
that blazed with embroidery of golden thread, so bright that one 
could scarcely see the scarlet ground for gold \ and this he gave 
to Helga. Then he leapt to horse and rode a-gallop across the 
farmstead. Eafn, it happened, stood in his way, and had to 
spring out of the road. And Gunnlaug drew his horse up short 
upon^^his haunches, saying, ‘Why slink away? Have I yet 
threatened thee % Or dost thou know that there is something to 
be settled betwixt us ?’ Kafn answered, ‘ What folly is this, that 
we twain should be at strife for the sake of one woman ! I have 
made my choice. The world is surely wide enough for thee to 
choose in. Doubtless in lands over sea there are maids as fair as 
HeDa.’ Gunnlaug said, ‘ As to that I care not; there is but one 
woman in the world for me.’ Then he got off his horse, and 
straightway would have fought with Kafn, but Illugi and Thor- 


470 Popular Ro^nances of the Middle Ages. 

stein came up and-would not suffer it. So Illugi took Gunnlaug 
home, and Thorstein led Eafn away. 

But after she had met Gunnlaug, Helga would have no more 
fellowship with Eafn; neither took she pleasure in aught save 
the glittering cloak which Gunnlaug gave her. And Eafn had 
sorrow and great heaviness; for he loved his wife with all his 
heart and soul. 

Now in summer-time, when men came to the Thing, Gunnlaug 
came also; and after the lawsuits were done for the first day, he 
stood up in the midst of the court and cried, ‘ Is Eafn the son of 
Onund here h ’ And when Eafn had answered to his name, 
Gunnlaug said, ‘ Take notice all men present that since Eafn has 
got to wife the maiden vowed to me, I call upon him to meet me 
on the holm of Axe river within three days.’ Eafn said that he 
would be ready. And it being lawful in those days to call a man 
on holm for wrong-doing, the people from the Thing v/ent over 
on the third day to Axe-river to see that all was done according 
to law. The custom was for each man to deal one blow, and he 
that was first wounded must pay three marks of silver. Eafn, 
being the challenged man, dealt the first. He smote at Gunn- 
laug’s shield so mightily that the sword brake off at the hilt, and 
the broken blade rebounding, struck Gimnlaug’s cheek and drew 
the blood. Thereupon the kinsmen of both ran in and parted 
them, and there arose a great disputing, inasmuch as Gunnlaug 
claimed that Eafn was overcome, he being weaponless; while 
Eafn declared Gunnlaug, being wounded, to be jbeaten. Thus, 
until this dispute could be settled, Gunnlaug was not suffered to 
deal his blow. Wherefore the people went back to the Thing 
and argued the matter in law; and since they could come to no 
agreement whatever about it, a law was passed whereby going 
on holm was thenceforth forbidden. So that was the last holm- 
gang in Iceland, and Gunnlaug gat no quittance for the blow. 

But after this Eafn was ill at ease; for his wife would not 
endure his love, but grieved always after Gunnlaug ; moreover it 
was noised abroad that she had met him once down by Axe- 
river. And because of these things lightly esteeming his life, 
Eafn came to Gunnlaug, saying, ‘ There is joy neither for me nor 
thee while both of us are alive. Wherefore next summer let us 
fare abroad, where none of our kin can hinder us, and we Avill 
fight the quarrel out.’ Gunnlaug answered, ‘ Thou hast a brave 
heart; and these are welcome words to me.’ Wherefore, despite 
all tbeir kinsmen could do, they fitted out each of them a ship in 
the summer, and sailed for Norway. But many things befell 


471 


Gtmnlaug mid the Fair Helga, 

both upon the voyage, so that Eafn waited two winters at Lifang 
in Drontheim and had no tidings of his enemy. And afterward 
when Gunnlaug reached Norway, and came to Yarl Eric at 
Hladir, their errand had got abroad and the Yarl forbade them 
to fight in his dominions. Gunnlaug abode another winter at 
the Yarl’s court, silent and downcast because Eafn would not 
move out of Lifang, and he durst not fight him there. One day 
in his walks Gunnlaug came upon a mob of courtiers ringed about 
two boys who fought in jest. One lad called himself Gunnlaug, 
the other Eafn ; and in their play they said that Icelanders 
cared nothing to be avenged, and soon forgot their wrongs : and 
the bystanders laughed and made merry, saying that the two foes 
when they met would get no more hurt than their namesakes in 
the ring; with many such-like words. 

Gunnlaug looked on and held his peace. But he came to Yarl 
Eric, saying that he could no longer bear these taunts, but that 
the ban upon their fighting must be taken off. Now Yarl Eric, 
having beforetime understood that Eafn was on his way from 
Lifang into Sweden, scrupled no longer about the matter, but 
gave him leave to go, and sent guides with him for the journey. 

But when Gunnlaug came to Lifang, Eafn, who had tarried 
there longer than Yarl Eric wotted of, was only a day’s journey 
on his road. So Gunnlaug made haste and followed after him; 
nevertheless, finding at sundown that he only came to the place 
where Eafn was the night before, he travelled day and night, 
and on the third morning, reaching Dingness at sunrise, he looked 
upon his foe. 

Gunnlaug said, ‘It is well that I have found thee.’ Eafn 
answered, ^Whether ill or well, a fated thing has come to pass.’ 

Four men were with Eafn and six with Gunnlaug. And Eafn 
said, ‘ Choose whether we two alone shall fight, or whether all of 
us man to man % ’ But the men on either side haying no mind to 
stand by and look on, Gunnlaug made his two guides sit down to 
bide the issue, charging them to take no part in the combat. So 
five stood up to five, and fought till only one stood up to one. 
Gunnlaug and Eafn being left alone to fight their mortal strife, 
rushed furiously together, maddened with the memory @f old 
wrongs. Mighty were the blows they dealt; but Gunnlaug bare 
the better sword, King ^thelred’s gift. At last he made a feint 
at Eafn’s head to make him lift his shield, then swung the sword 
down athwart Eafii’s knee, and hewed his leg from under him. 
Yet Eafn fell not; he limped away to where a tree had been cut 
down, and set the bleeding stump upon the tree-root; then cried, 
‘ Fight on; for I must do this battle to the utteruiost.’ 


472 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

‘Nay/ answered Gunnlaiig, ‘ I will not fight a man so maimed/ 

‘ Had I but a drink of water/ said Eafn, ‘ I could withstand 
thee yet.’ 

Gunnlaug said, ‘ Betray me not if I fetch it thee.' 

And Eafn sware to him, saying, ‘ I will not betray thee.’ 

Then Gunnlaug went and dipped up water in his helmet, and 
brought to him. But Eafn, while he put forth his left hand to 
take it, with the other drave down his sword into Gunnlaug's skull, 
and smote him a mortal wound. 

‘ Ill hast thou done,’ cried Gunnlaug, ‘ thus to break thy faith 
and basely to requite a kindly deed.’ 

‘Yea, I know it,’ answered Eafn; ‘I have done exceeding 
shamefully. Yet, how could I die, and give up fair Helga to 
thine arms'?’ 

So the two men fought on ; and in the end Eafn was slain, and 
Gunnlaug fell back swooning on the ground. 

Yarl Eric’s two guides washed the wound in Gunnlaug’s skull, 
and when they had bound it up, they gat him on a horse and 
brought him back to Lifang. There he lay three days ; and on 
the third day, after he had been shriven by the priest, he died. 

Now Illugi the Black away in Iceland dreamed that his son 
Gunnlaug came and stood before him covered with blood; and 
Onund that same night saw his son Eafn in the like evil case. 
And when the tidings came and both knew certainly what had 
befallen, Illugi went to Onund saying, ‘ Make atonement to me 
for my son.’ Onund answered, ‘ Are we not both in the same 
plight? Yet, do I ask thee for atonement for my son?’ Then 
said Illugi, ‘ My wrath shall evermore pursue thee and thy kin.’ 
That autumn Illugi came with thirty men to Mossfell seeking 
vengeance. Onund and his household took refuge in the church, 
but Illugi caught two of Onund’s sons ; one he slew, and had the 
legs smitten off the other. And yet again in the spring a son of 
Illugi slew another of Eafn’s kinsmen. But Onund gat no redress 
for all these slayings. 

Helga the Fair sat lonely in her father’s house, her mind dwell¬ 
ing always upon Gunnlaug. Across her lap she laid the shining 
cloak which he had given her, gazing evermore thereon and 
plucking at the golden threads. So the time went by, and lier 
father wedded her to Thorkel, a busy-minded man, wealthy in 
land and goods. Still she sat all day with the cloak upon h(T 
knees, and plucked the threads out one by one. And as the years 
passed, children came about the house, and grew up lads and 
lasses, and gladdened Thorkel’s heart. Yet Helga had no other 


473 


Gitnniaiig and the Fair Helga. 

joy than to gaze upon the fading cloak and pull the scanty threads 
away. Then, as time wore on, it came to pass that a heavy sick¬ 
ness visited Thorkel’s home-folk; and Helga fell ailing, yet would 
not keep her bed. And so on a Saturday night, as she sat in the 
fire-hall leaning her head on Thorkel’s knees, she said, ‘ Bring me 
again the cloak that was Gunnlaug’s gift.’ And when they had 
brought it, she spread it out upon her lap as at other times, to 
gaze upon it. Then she sat up and plucked the last gold threads 
away, and sank back dead into her husband’s arms. 


t THE STORY OF GUNNAR, NJAL’S FRIEND. 

When Harald Fairhair began to rule over Norway, he put away 
the old laws, and made a decree that freemen should henceforth 
pay taxes and always be the king’s men, instead of rendering 
service only in time of need as hereto'fore. For this cause many 
freemen strove long against the King, until, being worsted con¬ 
tinually, they sold all their possessions and came out from the 
land. Faring away to Iceland, they made themselves a new 
home. Thence they roved the sea for plunder, and oftentimes 
came down and harried the coasts of Norway because of their 
bitterness against the King. 

Some threescore years after the Norsemen were come out to 
Iceland, there arose amongst them a man very wise in law whose 
name was Njal. He dwelt at Bergthorsknoll, and was wealthy 
and gentle-minded, and greatly looked up to of all folk; his match 
for law was not to be found, and he was foresighted, knowing 
things to come. Njal was ever ready to give counsel, and when 
he counselled a man in aught, it was sure to be for the best. His 
face was handsome but beardless; he had to wife Bergthora, a 
brave-hearted woman, arid they had three strong sons, named 
Skarp-hedinn, Grim, and Helgi, and as many daughters. 

Now though Njal was greatly beloved of all men, he had one 
friend dearer to him than any, and that was Gunnar of Lithend, 
the most matchless warrior in Iceland. Tall and straight and 
strong, Gunnar had bright blue eyes and ruddy cheeks, and thick 
fair hair which fell in curls. None would contend with him at 
any warlike game, for when he handled sword three blades seemed 
hashing in the air at once, and he had equal skill to fight with 
either hand. With the bow he never missed his mark. He could 
outleap, outrun, outswim all men. He was dauntless as a lion, 
yet gentle and courteous withal, a fast iiiend, and a bountiful 
man. He and Njal had long been friends; Njal advised him in 
all that he undertook, and they vowed that nothing should ever 
sunder th(;ir friendship. 


475 


BtLrnt NjaL 

Now Gimnar being newly come home from faring abroad, 
having gotten both fame and treasure, rode to the Tiling, clad in 
scarlet, clothes and with a gold ring on his arm. And as he 
wandered among the booths there came forth a fair woman 
arrayed in a red kirtle and over all a cloak of needlework. Her 
hair fell over her bosom in long locks, and she had turned the 
ends in beneath her silver girdle. She came to Gunnar, and 
with nought of bashfulness straightway began to ask concerning 
Ins voyages and battles, saying that she was minded to talk with 
him. She said that her name was Hallgerda, and that she was 
Hauskuld’s daughter. So the two fell talking long together, and 
presently Gunnar asked if she were wed. ‘ Nay,’ she answered, 
‘there are few men bold enough to wed with me. Folk« say, 
too, I am not easy to please in husbands.’ Then said Gunnar, 
‘If I were bold enough should I displease F She answered, 
‘If this be truly thy mind, go ask me from my father.’ 

Then went Gunnar away and sought out Hauskuld’s booth. 
Hauskuld and his brother Hrut were within, and Gunnar having 
told his errand, Hauskuld said to his brother, ‘ How sayest thou, 
Hrut 't For I find it hard to answer in this matter.’ Then spake 
Hrut, ‘Gunnar, thou art a brave fellow and all that is to be 
desired for a match; but I will not cheat thee. Hallgerda is 
older than thou, and has been twice wed aforetime. She is a 
widow with an evil name, in that she compassed the death of 
both the husbands she has had already. Each smote her on the 
face, and ever mindful of the blow she rested not till Thiostolf 
her foster-father slew them. Hallgerda is no match for a man of 
unblemished fame.’ But Gunnar made light of it, saying that he 
was content to abide by the bargain. Wherefore Hrut said, 
‘ It is plainly of no avail to reason with a man whose heart is set 
upon a woman; and if ye two are fain to run the risk, it concerns 
none else.’ So Hallgerda was sent for and betrothed to Gunnar; 
and on a set day the marriage was made at Lithend. 

One winter, being bidden to a feast at Njal’s homestead, Gunnar 
brought his wife Hallgerda with him. She sat herself unbidden 
in the chief seat upon the cross bench, and when Thorhalla, the 
wife of Njal’s youngest son, came into the hall and walked up to 
the bench, Hallgerda spread out her robes and would not give 
her place. Then came Bergthora to her, saying, ‘ Give place to 
my son’s wife; for I will be ruler in this my house,’ and there¬ 
with sat Thorhalla beside her. But presently when Bergthora 
went round with water to wash the hands of the guests, Hallgerda 
took hold of her hand and reviled her, saying, ‘ Thou hast hang- 


47 ^ Popular Romances of the MiddL Ages, 

nails and thieves’ fingers—a fitting wife in soo;h for beardless 
Njal.’ '‘Aye/said Bergthora, ‘and being so fitly matched we 
dwell in peace together. To thee it may seem strange that a 
woman should live happily with one lord so long, and never have 
plotted his death.’ Then Hallgerda cried out to her husband, 
saying, ‘ Gunnar, avenge me of this woman’s slander.’ Straight¬ 
way strode Gunnar across the hall and said to his wife, ‘ Make 
thyself ready and go home. Beneath thine own roof thou mayest 
wrangle to thine heart’s content, but thou shalt not befool mo 
into breaking friendship with Njal, whom I honour more than 
any man.’ So Gunnar took her home. But thenceforward Hall¬ 
gerda sought how she might requite Bergthora for this say¬ 
ing. 

Between the homesteads of Gunnar and Njal was a wood 
wherein both hewed timber as they needed. And it fell out 
while Gunnar was away upon a journey that Hallgerda sent her 
woodman out to slay Bergthora’s woodman in the forest. The 
man did her bidding, and Hallgerda looked that this should 
embroil her husband with Njal. But far from this, when Gunnar 
heard it, he went to Njal and said, ‘ My wife and one of her men 
have slain a carle of thine. But why should we be ill friends 
because of it ? Put a price upon his life and I will pay it thee.’ 
Njal answered, ‘ I foresee that thou wilt be sore tried with this 
woman, but our friendship shall not be broken at her hands. 
Thou shalt pay me twelve ounces of silver for the slaying; or, if 
the price seem too great to thee, make thine own award ; I am 
content.’ So the money was paid. Nevertheless Bergthora 
was not content till she could be avenged. Wherefore she like¬ 
wise sent out a man who slew Hallgerda’s woodman. Njal came 
to Gunnar and paid him back the price he had received, but 
never a word of anger passed between them. After that the 
feud went on for years between the women, and there were many 
slayings both of house carles and freemen on either side ; yet for 
all this the wives sought vainly to stir their husbands up to strife. 
Njal and Gunnar always met, and paid or took the price which 
either awarded, and their friendship only grew the closer for the 
contentions of their women. 

A Swede named Sigmund came over the sea, and Gunnar gave 
him winter lodging. But while he abode in the house Hallgerda 
won him to her will, and set him to lie in wait to slay Tliord, 
who was one of Njal’s kinsmen. Gunnar got an inkling of what 
was brewing, and sent straightway to warn Njal of it. The 
evening that Njal got the tidings he was walking with Thord on 


477 


Burnt NjaL 

the highway vvhen suddenly Thord stopped and pointing witli 
his finger, cried, ‘See there !’ ‘I see nothing,’ answered Njal. 
‘Nothing!’ said Thord; ‘ what is that goat which lieth in the 
road all dabbled with blood ‘No goat is there,’ said Njal ; 
‘ but a fetch perchance that goeth before thee, to warn thee of 
doom.’ So Njal bade Thord ride away east for safety. But a 
flooded river which he could not cross delayed him, and on the 
third night from the time when he saw the fetch, Thord fell dead 
by Sigmund’s hand. 

Njal’s sons were eager to avenge the slaying of their kinsman 
upon Giinnar and all his house, but Njal still made the peace and 
took a money price of two hundreds in silver. 

Yet Sigmund tarried on at the homestead at Lithend, and 
Hallgerda in a little while by her blandishments and. fair words 
prevailed upon him to make a song befouling Njal and his sons, 
and to sing it where it should come to their ears. Njal heard of 
it and bade his sons take no heed thereof. But one night when 
he went to bed he missed his sons’ spears and shields from the 
wall, and said to his wife Bergthora, ‘ Where is Skarp-hedinn 1 
And where are his brothers Helgi and Grim V She answered, 

‘ They went out awhile ago a-fishing.’ Njal said, ‘Men seldom 
fish with spear and shield.’ That night was Sigmund slain. 
Howbeit Njal made atonement to Gunnar with the same two 
hundreds in silver which he had received; and they passed their 
words always to settle any matter which came between them in 
like friendly fashion. 

Now one year there fell a great dearth upon the land; the 
sheep and cattle died for want of pasture, and the scanty corn 
croi)s withered in the ear. Gunnar shared his hay and meat 
among the people so long as they lasted; but his hand was so 
liberal and the need so great, that presently he began to be in 
want. Then Gunnar went to Otkell, a rich man but very 
covetous, who dwelt at Kirkby, and sought to buy food of him. 
Otkell had a friend named Skamkell, on whose counsel he 
always acted, a great liar and lickspittle, who fawned about him 
and puffed him up with evil counsels. And being advised of thig' 
fellow, Otkell said to Gunnar, ‘ In sooth I have stores in plenty, 
but I am minded neither to sell nor give to thee; so go thy way.’ 
Then the men which came with Gunnar urged him to take what 
he needed by force and lay down the worth of it. But Gunnar 
scorned to do so, and rode away. Howbeit Njal heard that he 
w’as in want of food, and without waiting to be asked laded twenty 
horses with hay and meat and sent, them to Gunnar, saying, ‘A 


47 ^ Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

friend’s gift to a friend; and, by our friendship, I pray thee in 
time to come seek all that thou mayest lack from me alone.’ 
Gunnar sent hack word, ‘ Good are thy gifts, but better than all 
gifts is thy friendship.’ 

But Gunnar’s wife was stirred up to anger against Otkell 
because of his avarice. She had a thrall named Malcolm whom 
she had bought not long before from Otkell, and she sent out this 
man at night with two horses, charging him to break open 
Otkell’s storehouse, and having laden the horses with provisions, 
to burn down the storehouse so as to hide all trace of theft. So 
Malcolm fared away to his old master’s homestead at Kirkby. 
The house-dog knew him and did not bark. Malcolm laded the 
horses with butter and cheese, and burnt the storehouse to the 
ground. But going home, one of his shoe-thongs breaking, he 
took out his knife, and having cut a new thong from the leathern 
belt about his waist, went on his way. When he was come back 
to Lithend he missed his knife and belt, and knew that he had 
left them on Otkell’s land, yet durst not go back to fetch 
them. 

Next day as Hallgerda set out the food upon the board, 
Gunnar said, ‘Whence came the cheese and butter? We have 
made no such things on the farm for many a month.’ Hallgerda 
said, ‘ It ill befitteth a man to busy himself about housekeeping. 
Eat and ask no questions.’ But he said, ‘ Nay, 1 will be no 
partaker with thieves,’ and waxing angry, gave her a slap on the 
face, sent the food from the table, and had meal brought in 
instead. ‘That,’ said he, ‘is honest food, for it comes from 
Njal.’ Hallgerda grew sullen and said, ‘ One day I shall make 
thee remember that blow.’ 

Otkell was not a little vexed for the burning of his storehouse, 
but wist not how it came to pass till Skamkell brought a knife 
and belt which he had found hard by the place. ‘ Knowest thou 
aught of these things?’ said Skamkell. ‘Surely I do,’ said 
Otkell; ‘they belong to Malcolm the thrall whom I sold to 
Gunnar.’ ‘ Then keep thy counsel,’ said this busybody, ‘ till I 
get to the bottom of the matter.’ With that Skamkell went 
away to a man of no little cunning, named Mord, who had 
always envied Gunnar, and asked his help. Mord said, ‘ Give 
me three marks of silver, and I will promise to find whether any 
of the goods are in Gunnar’s house.’ So the bargain being made, 
Mord sent out women to go from house to house peddling small 
wares, and bade them take note of what they received from each 
house in return for their goods. In a fortnight’s time the women 


479 


BiLrnt Njal. 


ca7ne back with big bundles of things which they had gathered. 
Wdien Mord looked over the bundles he found about half a cheese 
cut in thick slices. ‘ Where got you this % ’ he asked. ‘ From 
tiallgerda at Lithend; she was very bountiful to us,’ the women 
said. ‘Aye,’ thought Mord, ‘folks are always liberal with what 
is not their own so taking the cheese to Otkell’s house he bade 
him bring out his wife’s cheese-mould. Then he laid the slices 
together and set them in the mould, and they fitted it in every 
way. 

But while Otkell and Skamkell were scheming how best to 
break the matter to Gunnar, who should come in but Gunnar 
himself, who said, ‘I find that thou hast suffered a great loss 
through the plotting of my wife and that worthless thrall I 
bought of thee. Wherefore I come to make amends, and I 
make thee this offer: let the best men round the 'country-side 
settle the matter.’ But Skamkell said, ‘ Seldom an offer sounds 
so fair and yet is so unjust; for all men hold by thee, whereas 
Otkell has few friends.’ Gunnar said, ‘Then I will utter an 
award myself. I am willing to restore double for all that Otkell 
has lost.’ ‘ Nay,’ answered Skamkell, ‘ this shall not be, for it is 
not thy right to make an award, but Otkell’s.’ Gunnar said, ‘ I 
am not dealing with thee, Skamkell, but with Otkell. Come 
now, Otkell, thou hast refused my two offers, but I would keep 
friends with thee. Utter an award thyself; whatsoever it be I 
will abide by it.’ But Otkell turned to Skamkell and whispered, 
‘ How shall I answer ] ’ Skamkell whispered back, ‘ Say nay, and 
that thou wouldst rather leave it in the hands of men of law.’ 
Wherefore Otkell answered, ‘ The offer is not amiss, but I cannot 
make an award till I have seen Gizur the White and Geir the 
priest.’ ‘ Well,’ said Gunnar, ‘ I have made three good offers by 
which I am ready to abide, but I shall do no more,’—and there¬ 
with rode away. 

Now instead of going himself Otkell sent Skamkell to see the 
lawmen. And when Gizur the White and Geir the priest heard 
the man’s tale they said, ‘No one could have made fairer offers 
than Gunnar has done; let Otkell choose which of them he will: 
it is no case for law.’ Howbeit Skamkell cared little to take this 
message to his master since it condemned his own counsels; 
wherefore being come back to Otkell he lied to him and said that 
the lawmen advised him to summon Hallgerda for stealing the 
victuals, and Gunnar for partaking of them. So a suit was set on 
foot; but when it came on for hearing at the Thing and the 
truth was testified to by Gizur the White and Geir tlie priest. 


480 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

Otkell was put to shame, and the end of it was that Gunnar, 
being left to make his own award, stood up and thus uttered it: 
‘For the storehouse and the food I will pay thee, Otkell, the full 
price. I will pay no fine for the thrall, because thou didst hide 
his faults, but I award him back to thee. And now, since thou 
hast summoned me wrongfully and in mockery, I award myself 
no less a sum than the house and the burnt stones were worth. 
So there will be no need for money to pass between us.’ Folk 
thought it rather hard on Otkell; but none pitied him, since all 
believed that he had brought ’it on himself. So hands were 
shaken on the bargain, and Gunnar rode away with great 
honour. 

One day in the springtime Gunnar was sowing corn in a newly 
ploughed field on his farmstead, and as he scattered the grain 
from the sieve in his left hand he stooped over his work heeding 
nothing but his sowing. Otkell came riding a-gallop over the 
field and saw not Gunnar till he was close upon him. He pulled 
the bridle athwart and swerved his horse, but in that moment 
Gunnar stood upright, and Otkell drave one of his spurs by 
misadventure into Gunnar’s ear and gashed it open. Howbeit, 
Otkell stayed not, but rode on; and Skamkell hearing of it, 
noised the affair abroad, and said that Gunnar had shed tears at 
the pain. 

Gunnar said naught, but went indoors and took down his 
sword and spear and shield and helm. He took from the nail 
where it hung a great war-bill which he won in battle with 
Hallgrim. A mighty weapon it was ; and there'was this about 
it, that whensoever a man was to be slain with that bill some¬ 
thing sang in it so loud that it might be heard a long way off. 
And when Gunnar had armed himself and had gotten the bill in 
his hands he leapt upon his horse and rode away. As he went, 
his mother Eamveig from an upper room heard a shrill singing in 
the war-bill, and went and awakened Gunnar’s brother Kolskegg, 
saying, ‘ Rise up and follow after Gunnar, for men will die to-day ; 
the bill gave out the death-sound.’ 

At Rangriver, against the ford at Hof, Gunnar and Kolskegg 
came upon Otkell and Skamkell riding with six men. Gunnar 
and his brother got off their horses, and called to the others to do 
the like and guard themselves. Otkell and his band were nowise 
loth, seeing how the numbers were, and quickly gathered about 
the two. Then flashed Gunnar’s sword so swiftly that no eye 
could follow it; he smote down two of the men, then took the- 
bill in both his hands, and thrusting Skamkell through the midst, 


Burnt NjaL 481 

lifted liiin up and cast his body headlong in the muddy ford, 
ptkell smote with his sword at Guiinar’s knees, but Gunnar leapt 
in the air and avoided the blade, and before Otkell could recover 
himself the bill was through his chest. So Gunnar slew six and 
Kolskegg two; and they left all eight men dead about the ford. 

Gunnar rode straightway olf to Njal to tell what had happened. 
And Njal said, ‘ This need not turn out either for thy loss or for 
thy dishonour so far as I can foresee, though it will be the begin¬ 
ning of many manslayings.’ Then Gunnar prayed him for some 
wise counsel to guide him in time to come; and Njal said, ‘ See 
to it in all thy quarrels that thou slay no more than one man of 
the same stock ; so shalt thou come to be an old man ; but 
when thou forgettestjbhis warning thou shalt have but a little while 
to live.’ And Gunnar said, ‘ Since thou knowest so well what will 
happen to other men, canst thou tell what shall he the manner of 
thine own death Njal answered, ‘ Yea, I know it.’ ‘ How will 
it be V said Gunnar. ‘ It will be a death,’ he said, ‘ more dread¬ 
ful than any man would tliink, neither would any believe it if he 
were told.’ 

When the suits for these slayings were laid at the Thing, Njal 
helped Gunnar with his wise counsels, and the award was that 
Otkell’s death should be set off against the wound which Gunnar 
got from the spur; Skamkell, for his lying and for stirring up 
the strife, was to be unatoiied ; and for the rest of the men fines 
were to be paid according to their worth. 

After this Gunnar and his brother had a battle with fourteen 
men, which arose out of a horse-fight, all of whom they slew; and 
Njal by his wisdom settled matters at the Thing so that Gunnar 
suffered little loss and got great honour. But Thorgeir, a kins¬ 
man of one of the men that was slain, went to Mord and 
promised him money if he would show some way whereby he 
might have vengeance upon Gunnar. Mord said, ‘ This I know, 
that Njal has foretold that whenever Gunnar slays twice in the 
same stock it shall prove his bane. Now Otkell has left a son 
who is both strong and brave-hearted; wherefore I counsel thee 
to drag him into a quarrel with Gunnar; and when ye two are 
together in the affray, do thou guard thyself and hold back; so 
G unnar shall slay Otkell’s son and accomplish his own doom; but 
thou shalt flee away.’ 

So Thorgeir went away to work oiit this plot. By the gift of 
a spear inlaid with gold he first made friends with Otkell’s son, 
who being himself true-hearted and guileless judged others to be 
the like. Then Thorgeir raked up a matter long gone by, about 

2 H 


482 Popidar Romances of the Middle Ages, 

a cornfield which Gunnar was to have given Otkell as atone¬ 
ment for an old slaying, but which he afterwards redeemed with a 
money price. Little by little he wrought upon the young man’s 
mind, and made him feel aggrieved at Gunnar’s keeping back a 
piece of land the worth whereof was now threefold what Otkell 
got for it. So at last Thorgeir hardened the heart of Otkell’s son 
against Gunnar, and they both agreed to fall upon him una^yares. 
But they durst not seek him at home, for Gunnar had a faithful 
hound named Sam, which was gifted with more than a man’s wit 
to know a friend from a foe, and would lay down his life for his 
master. Wherefore they got four and twenty men together and 
made an ambush by Rangriver, where they lay in wait till Gunnar 
should ride down to see after his house-carles working across the 
ford. 

Now as Gunnar rode down that way with his brother Kolskegg, 
he perceived blood sweat out upon his bill and stand in drops 
upon the blade. And while he marvelled he espied men rising 
from an ambush. Gunnar strung his bow and slew many (u 
them with his arrows, and wounded many more before they could 
come up with him. Then clutched he the war-bill in his hands 
and ran upon the men. He hewed one man’s legs from under 
him; another he smote in twain; but the rest drew back from 
the sweep of the bill. Then Thorgeir egged t)n Otkell’s son, 
saying, ‘Little would one think that thou hadst a father to 
avenge.’ With that Otkell’s son ran in and drave his spear into 
Gunnar’s shield. With a twist of his shield Gunnar brake the 
spear-head off; then he thrust his bill through the youth’s body, 
and hoisting him aloft flung him lifeless far out into Rangriver. 
Then Thorgeir and his fellows turned and fled. 

Njal was very heavy at heart when Gunnar told him of the 
affray, and he said, ‘ From this time forth beware of thyself; for 
thou hast slain twice in one stock, and evil will surely come of 
it. But above all see thou hold to the terms of the settlement 
which shall be made.’ 

The suits being brought, it was agreed on both sides to take 
the award of twelve men. And they gave it that money fines 
should be paid for all the slayings, but that Gunnar and 
Kolskegg must go abroad three winters, or in default might be 
slain by the suitors or their kinsmen without atonement. So 
Gunnar and Kolskegg, having passed their words to go abroad, 
went home and got things together for seafaring, and took their 
passage in a ship. And all being ready, the two brothers bade 
their mother farewell and rode away from the house. But they 


Burnt NjaL 483 

had scarce passed their own boundaries when Gunnar turned in 
liis saddle to take a last look at his home. And he said, * How 
fair is Lithend in the summer sunshine ! Never has it seemed to 
me so fair. The corn-fields are yellowing to harvest. They are 
carrying the hay from the home-field—how sweet it smells ! I 
cannot leave the old place, brother; by my life I will not leave 
it!’ Then Kolskegg urged him, saying, ‘ Do not so shamefully as 
to go back and break the atonement left to thy good faith; for 
surely if thou dost it shall befall even as Njal has foretold.’ He 
said, ‘ I care not what may come of it. Lithend has grown so 
dear to me to-day I cannot leave it.’ Kolskegg answered, 
‘ Brother, if so thy mind is set, abide here. But I will keep my 
pledge and fare abroad; neither shall I ever return more; for 
this resolve will cost thee thy life, and then there will be nothing 
left in Lithend to bring me back again.’ So the brothers parted; 
Kolskegg went to his ship, and Gunnar turned his horse’s head 
and came home. 

It soon got whispered about that Gunnar abode still at Lith¬ 
end, and would not go out of Iceland ; and at the next Thing he 
was proclaimed an outlaw. Then Thorgeir and Mord and Gizur 
the White gathered together forty of the kinsmen of those men 
whom Gunnar had slain, and planned how best to attack him. 
Njal heard of it and came and warned Gunnar of what was 
brewing, and said, ‘ Let my sons, Skarp-hedinn and Grim, come 
and abide with thee in the house; for they will both give their 
lives for thee.’ But Gunnar said, ‘ Nay ; thy sons shall not be 
slain for my sake ; that were a poor requital for thy goodness to 
me. But I pray thee, if anything befall me, see after my son 
Hogni, who is dear to me : I say nothing of my other son Grani, 
whom I had by Hallgerda, for he is his mother’s boy, and has 
ever been froward to my mind.’ Njal promised him, and went 
his way. Gunnar scorned to remain in hiding; he rode to the 
Things and all other meetings of men as aforetime, and held his 
head on high. None of his friends spake of his outlawry, or 
turned their backs on him; and none of his foes for very shame 
durst lay hands on him openly. 

But Mord and Thorgeir and Gizur the White, with their forty 
fellows, gathered about Gunnar’s homestead one day before sun¬ 
rise. They heard the baying of the hound, and knowing that 
they must first destroy him, they sent six of their band to go and 
secure the bonder who lived on the next farm. Him they fetched 
from his bed and bound with cords, threatening to take his life 
unless he would go and bring them the dog. The man went, and 



484 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

called the hound by name; Sam knew him, and fawned anil 
leapt about him whilst he unloosed the chain. The hound 
followed him down the pathway and far across the farmstead till 
they came upon the band of men. Then seeing how he had been 
betrayed, the dog flew at the bonder, pinned him by the throat 
and tare him to pieces. But the men smote him with their axes 
as he worried the bonder’s flesh, and one of the axe-blades sank 
into his brain. The hound lifted his head, and giving a strange 
howl like the cry of a man in despair, set off and ran, and coming 
to the homestead, found his way into the chamber where Gunnar 
slept. He leapt upon the bed and licked his master’s face; 
then stretched himself by his master’s side, and died. Gunnar 
awoke and said, ‘ Sorely hast thou been treated, Sam, my foster¬ 
ling ; and I take it as a warning that our two deaths shall not be 
far apart.’ 

When the men were come nigh the house they would fain 
know whether Gunnar was at home, and Thorgrim the Easterling 
said he would climb up the pillars of the house and look into 
Gunnar’s chamber. But when Thorgrim was come up under the 
roof-beams Gunnar saw him peeping through the window-slits, 
and thrusting out his bill smote him through the middle ; so the 
man fell down backwards to the ground. Gizur ran to Thorgrim, 
and said, ‘ Tell us, is Gunnar at home V Thorgrim answered, ‘ I 
cannot tell; but this I know right well, that his bill is at home ;’ 
and so saying he died. 

Gunnar gathered a pile of arrows before him and shot out 
from the windows at his foes.’ No arrow missed its mark. Then 
the men drew back and took shelter in the outhouses, and anon 
came out to hack at the doorways of the homestead. But the 
house was strongly built of timber, and Gunnar’s arrows searched 
them through and through, so that they could not abide these 
onslaughts long together. 

Presently Gizur said, ‘Lo, I saw Gunnar put forth his arm 
from the window and take an arrow off the roof; he must be 
running short of shafts within doors. Now let us make a fresh 
attack.’ Then by Mord’s counsel they fetched ropes, and having 
thrown them over the roof-beams, they made fast the other ends 
to a rock, and twisting them tight with levers dragged the roof 
off from the hall. Still Gunnar shot out arrows and kept the 
men back, till one of them stealthily climbed the house-pillars, 
and smiting in at the window with his sword, cut Gunnar’s bow¬ 
string asunder. In. a moment Gunnar’s bill was through his 
body and the man fell backwards dead upon the ground; but 


Burnt NjaL 485 

others clambered up, and it was hard work to guard the roofless 
loft on all four sides from them which came. Then Guimar 
called to his wife Hallgerda and said, ‘ Quick, now ! Take two 
locks of thy long hair, and do thou and my mother twist them 
into a bowstrin" for me.’ His wife laughed coldly. ‘Does 
aught hang upon itf said she. ‘Aye,’ he answered, ‘my life 
hangs on it; for with naught but my bow can I keep these men 
at bay. Quick, the bowstring!’ Then said Hallgerda, ‘ Thinkest 
thou I have forgotten the blow on the face which thou gavest 
rael What is it to me whether thou boldest out for a short 
while or a long % And so thy life hangs on my hair! Thy 
mother Eannveig’s is too short!’ She loosed her ample locks 
and shook them to her knees—laughed bitterly in Gunnar’s face, 
and went down to the hall. 

Gunnar flung the useless bow aside and caught his bill in both 
hands. A stout defence he made; for the first eight that 
swarmed up the walls fell wounded nigh to death; but his foes 
were too many, and in time they hemmed him in against a corner 
of the loft and slew him there. For all that, when the suitors 
came to reckon up their loss, they found sixteen sorely wounded 
and two dead. Then came Gizur the White and some of the 
band to Gunnar’s mother liannveig, saying, ‘ We pray thee grant 
us earth enough wherein to lay our two dead men.' Rannveig 
answered, ‘ You are welcome enough ; and I am only sorry that 
I have not to grant it to all of you.’ And Gizur said to his 
fellows, ‘ Come away, and take no heed of her words, for she has 
had a great loss.’ And he charged them all that they should not 
spoil or rob anything about the place. So they buried their dead 
and went quietly away. 

Rannveig after this grew so bitter against Hallgerda that there 
was no abiding in the house; wherefore Hallgerda took her son 
Grani and fled away to Gritwater where Thrain her son-in-law 
dwelt, who had wedded her daughter by her first husband. So 
Gunnar’s son Hogni took to the farm at Lithend. They raised a 
great cairn over Gunnar and set him upright upon a chair, with 
all his weapons by him save the bill, which Kannveig said was to 
be kept for the man that should avenge him. But for many 
nights such strange noises were heard from Gunnar’s cairn, that 
at length Hogni fetched Njal’s son Skarp-hedinn, and they two 
went at midnight to see what it might betoken. It was a clear cold 
night, and fleecy clouds drifted over the bright moon and stars. 
And as they beheld, lo, it seemed as if the cairn stood open, and 
Gunnar had turned himself within the cairn; the moonlight fell 


486 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

upoo his face, and he was merry, singing a battle-song whicli 
might be heard a long way off ; four lights burned round about 
him, but cast no shadows. As they gazed and listened, the 
moon was hidden by a cloud; and when it shone again the song 
was done and the cairn was shut. 

Then Hogni took Skarp-hedinn home with him, and being 
come into the house Hogni laid his hand upon Gunnar’s bill 
which hung up in its place. As soon as he touched it there was 
a singing in the bill, and Eannveig sprang up, saying, ‘ Thou art 
he that shall bear it to avenge thy father, and already has the 
bill spoken of one man’s death or more.’ Hogni took the weapon 
and went out, Skarp-hedinn going with him. That night they 
came upon Thorgeir and three other of the suitors. Two died 
by the bill and two by Skarp-hedinn’s axe. Mord they found 
likewise, but he went upon his knees and begging for mercy 
offered ail he had for life. So Skarp-hedinn took an atonement 
from him at a great price in money for his share in Gunnar’s 
death and let him go. 


II. THE BURNING OF NJAL. 

Now Njal’s two younger sons Grim and Helgi joined them¬ 
selves with some other men and went sea-roving about the 
Orkneys where they met with many adventures. Once, when 
they were beset by thirteen ships, a viking with ten ships, who 
chanced to steer that way, saw how hard they were put to it, 
and striking in on the weaker sidq fought a great battle and 
drave off their enemies. This viking wore a helm of gold upon 
his head, scarce brighter than the golden hair which fell upo i 
his shoulders; his face was frank and handsome, and he fought 
with a great two-handed sword named Life-luller. He told them 
he was called Kari, and that he was the son of Solmund. And 
from that time a great friendship sprang up between him and 
Njal’s sons; and many times thenceforward Kari succoured them 
and fought at their side both on sea and land. 

After a while the brothers left Kari, and sailing east came to 
Norway. There they fell in with Thrain who had wedded Hall- 
gerda’s daughter. Thrain had been some winters in Norway 
serving Yarl Hacon, and with his war-ship, the Vulture, had 
gained no little wealth and renown. Grim and Helgi having 



Burnt Njal. 487 

known Tlirain in Iceland, renewed their fellowship with him, 
and were often aboard his ship when he went out a-raiding. It 
happened one day as the Vulture lay out in the offing ready for 
a cruise that Thrain and Njal’s sons were just putting off from 
shore in a little boat to take the water-casks aboard, wlien a man 
carne racing to the water-side, and sprang down upon the shingle, 
crying, ‘ Help me, good men and true ! Varl Hacon and his men 
are at my heels, and they will kill me like a dog.’ Helgi looked 
at the fellow and said, ‘ Take him not in, Thrain, for if I mis¬ 
judge not he is an unlucky man to have to do with. Besides, it 
Avere an unseemly deed towards thy friend Yarl Hacon.’ Thrain 
heeded not, but turning to the man, asked, ‘Who art thou] 
What hast thou done]’ He answered, ‘My name is Hrapp. I 
have the blood of many men upon my hands; I have beguiled 
the daughter of my friend; I have burned the shrines of the 
gods, and plundered them of their jewels.’ ‘ Hast thou the jewels 
with thee]’ said Thrain. ‘Aye,’ said Hrapp. ‘ Give them to 
me, and for that price I will take thee aboard.’ ‘ Not all,’ tlie 
man pleaded; ‘ good master, let me keep a portion for myself.’ 
Thrain dashed his oar into the water, saying, ‘ All or none; do as 
you will. But listen !’ Hrapp listened, and heard the tramp of 
horses’ feet and the hue and cry of his pursuers. He said ‘ I 
have no choice; take all,’ and leaping into the boat, lay down 
beneath the benches at the bottom. The boat shoved off. Yarl 
Hacon and his men came down upon the beach and hailed her, 
but she made no sign. The boat rowed to the ship and the men 
went on board. 

Not a ri2)ple was on the water; not a breath of wind in the 
sky. ‘A plague on it!’ cried Thrain, ‘ we must lie here at anchor 
till a breeze gets up, for we are too short-handed to man the 
oars. And where is this man to hide ] For of a surety Hacon 
will search the vessel.’ Then he took an empty water-cask, and 
putting Hrapp therein lowered the cask overboard so that it 
should lie under the shadow of the stern. 

Very soon Yarl Hacon put off in a barge and came to the ship. ^ 
He said to Thrain, ‘ We seek a man named Hraj^j) who has done 
us all manner of .evil. Deliver him up to us.’ Thrain answered, 

* He is not here; I know naught of him. Many a winter have I 
served thee well, and I deem it in nowise a fit return that thou 
shouldst charge me thus. Howbeit, seek him if thou art so 
minded.’ The Yarl sought but could not find him. Then he 
bes2)ake Njal’s sons, saying, ‘I know that ye are men of truth; 
tell me where this man is hidden.’ But though they held not 


488 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

with Thrain they counted it shame to betray him ; so they 
answered, ‘ Go ask of Thrain, or seek him for thyself; we will 
have naught to do with the matter.’ And with that they took 
the ship’s boat and rowed off to their own vessel. The Yard 
likewise went away, doubting and ill-satisfied. But no sooner 
had he got back to land and espied the water-cask than he put 
off again. Thrain watched him coming, and taking Hrapp up out 
of the cask, stowed him away in a sack amongst the ship’s lading. 
Wherefore Hacon came and turned the cask bottom up, and 
routed the ship over a second time, but could not find the man 
he sought. Yet when he got ashore again it seemed to come into 
his mind that Hrapp must be among the sacks, and a third time 
he came aboard. He said, ‘ I know the man is here, and when I 
am ashore I seem to see it plainly, but aboard the vessel thou 
dost balk me. Give him up, or it will be worse for thee.’ ‘Well,’ 
said Thrain, ‘ if thou art bent on making me out a liar, seek for 
thyself, I shall not help thee.’ This time they had folded Hrapp 
in the sail which was brailed up to the yard. The Yarl searcl ed 
the vessel through, and came away dissatisfied; but scarce had 
he got ashore when a breeze sprang up, the Vulture spread her 
sails, and immediately Hacon saw Hrapp in the rigging. 

Straightway Hacon made ready four war-ships, and put out to 
sea after Thrain, but the Vulture had a good start and got clean 
off*. Being very vexed thereat, Hacon cruised about till he fell 
in with the ship wherein Njal’s sons were, and feeling assured 
that they were privy to Hrapp’s hiding, he gave them battle, and 
after a long fight took Grim and Helgi prisoners, and having 
bound them fiung them in the hold to wait for death. But in 
the night Grim espied an axe lying edge up in the hold, and 
rolling himself over thereto he cut his cords, and then went and 
loosed his brother. At daybreak they saw an island scarce a 
mile away, and getting softly over the ship’s side they dropped 
into the sea and swam to land. A ship had put in thither for 
water, and to their joy they found it was the ship of their friend 
Kari, Solmund’s son. Yarl Hacon steered in shore and asked 
Kari if he was harbouring Njal’s sons. ‘ I am,’ said Kari. ‘ Wilt 
thou give them up to me f ‘ That will I not,’ said he; ‘ they 
are my friends even as I am thine, and thou hast misjudged 
them. But I am ready to make the peace betwixt you ; and 
when thou shalt learn of a truth that these men had no hand in 
deceiving thee it shall be left to thee to award them recompense 
for the despite done to them.’ So when Yarl Hacon knew the 
truth he made full atonement, and they all became friends. 


Bicrnt NjaL 489 

After that Njal’s sons roved the sea with Kari, and went harry¬ 
ing about Anglesea and the southern isles. And when they had 
gotten much booty, Grim and Helgi constrained Kari to come 
out to Iceland and abide at their house. And so he did ; and in 
the springtime Kari wedded Helga, one of Kjal’s daughters, and 
there was the greatest of good fellowship betwixt him and all 
NjaPs house, both then and ever afterwards. 

Now Thrain had likewise come home, and abode at Gritwater 
with Hallgerda his mother-in-law; Hrapp also dwelt with him. 
And there was very little love between that household and NjaPs. 
For Thrain was sore against Helgd and Grim because they had 
not lied for him over Hrapp’s hiding, but had made friends with 
Hacon at his expense, Hrapp hated both brothers because they 
withstood his being taken into Thrain’s ship. Hallgerda bear 
yet in her mind the memory of her old feud with Bergthora, 
NjaPs wife; but Njal and all his sons she hated for another 
cause. In wedding Gunnar she had looked that, with the 
bravest and most dauntless man in Iceland for a husband, every 
fancied slight to her should have been avenged with blood. 
Instead of that, in all things Gunnar had been peacefully ruled 
by Njal; for Njal he became a man whom she despised; for 
Njal’s light-given meat he had disdained the food which she had 
got by theft. Njal made her husband a man of whom she would 
fain be rid; but being rid of him she hated the man that made 
her content to see him die. The ill-will of Thrain and Hrapp 
might soon have cooled, but Hallgerda fanned it day by day. 
So time went on, and Thrain would talk of Njal as ‘ that old 
beardless fool,’ and when he met NjaPs sons he spake not to 
them. There was only one in all Thrain’s household untainted 
with bad feeling towards Njal, and that was Hauskuld, Thrain’s 
son, a generous-minded youth who bare no living soul ill- 
will. 

Grim and Helgi were annoyed beyond measure at Thrain’s 
coldness, the more so after what they had suffered for his sake; 
and Skarp-hedinn their elder brother hearing continually of 
Thrain’s ill words grew restless, and fell to whetting his great 
two-handed axe War-Ogress. Skarp-hedinn was a tall gaunt 
man, with a rugged face as pale as ashes; his hair was short and 
crisp; his front teeth stood out from his mouth; he was im¬ 
patient and quick of speech, but very valiant. Skarp-hedinn 
would straightway have gone with his brothers and fallen on 
Thrain, but Njal counselled them all to forbear. He said, ‘ Ye 
have none of you with your own ears heard Thrain speak evil 


490 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

concernirg us ; it may be idle tale-bearing; wait and see.’ ‘Xot 
so/ said Skarp-hedinn, ‘ but we will go to Thrain’s house and set 
all doubt at rest.’ Thereupon Njal’s sons and Kari their brother- 
in-law rode over to Gritwater; and being come to the homestead 
they saw Hallgerda standing in the porch ; but she gave them no 
word of greeting. Skarp-hedinn said, ‘ Perchance we are not 
welcome hereP Hallgerda answered, ‘None within this house 
will say that ye are welcome.’ 

‘ Well,’ said Skarp-hedinn, ‘ our errand is not with thee.’ So 
they entered the house and came to Thrain. Then spake Helgi, 

‘ I am come to know if thou wilt make amends for what befell 
me and my brother Grim in Norway because of theeP Thrain 
answered, ‘ Canst thou measure thy manhood by naught but 
moneyP Helgi said, ‘A word from us to Yarl Hacon would 
have cost thy life; yet we spake not that word; and for that 
cause we suffered hardships.’ Then Hrapp said, ‘ Luck ruled it 
that ye had the stripes while we got free; tempt your luck no 
further lest the like befall you all again.’ Skarp-hedinn said to 
his brother, ‘ Bandy no words with a man who has robbed the 
shrines of the gods.’ ‘Hold thy tongue, Skarp-hedinn,’ cried 
Hrapp, ‘ or I will drive my axe into thy skull.’ Skarp-hedinn 
scoffed at him, saying, ‘ We shall see before long which shall 
scatter gravel over the other’s head.’ Then Hallgerda cried 
aloud, ‘Away with you, sons of a beardless fool, who grew youi* 
beards as we grow hay upon the meadows, by dunging them. 
Ye Dungbeards get you gone !’ In like manner also did Hrapp 
revile them, but Thrain held his peace. 

Njal’s sons came home and told their father. And their mother 
Bergthora hearing it, said, ‘Ye have borne these words? And 
yet I see no blood upon your axes ? Verily folk will say that 
my sons have not the heart to lift their weapons.’ 

But not many days after, Njal’s sons and Kari set out in quest 
of their revilers. It was winter time, and as they wended along 
by the side of the river Fleet, they saw Thrain and Hrapp with 
six men on the other bank. The ice being broken away from the 
side of the river where the brothers were, they could not get 
across till, perceiving a tongue of ice further down which stretched 
to the shore, they hasted thither, all save Skarp-hedinn, who 
lagged behind to tie his shoe. Thrain and his fellows from the 
other side espying them came out upon the ice, Thrain foremost. 
Then Skarp-hedinn had no patience to go after his brothers, but 
took a run and a spring from the bank, and leaping twelve oils 
across the water on to the sheet of ice, came sliding down on 


491 


B2irnt Njal. 

Thrain swift as a bird flies. Down came the axe cleaving Thrain’s 
skull to the jaw-teeth ; and before the others could get a blow at 
him, Skarp-hedinn had slid to where his brothers were. After¬ 
wards a fierce fight befell, wherein Grim slew Hrapp, and Kari 
smote down a strong man named Tjorvi; the rest prayed for 
peace, and Skarp-hedinn gave it to them. Howbeit Helgi was 
against the peacemaking, for he said, ‘ These men will never be 
true to us.’ One of the men was Grani, Gunnar’s froward son, 
and it was for his sake that the peace was made. 

After Njal had paid down the blood-money which was awarded 
for these slayings, he took out a ring of gold, and calling Haus- 
kuld, Thrain’s son, to him, he set it on his hand, saying, ‘ Wilt 
thou take this as a gift from me?’ The lad said, ‘That I will; 
for though I know full well that Skarp-hedinn slew my father, 
he was greatly provoked to anger. Thou and thy sons are just 
men; the atonement has been fully paid, and I cannot bear 
malice against any of you.’ Njal said, ‘ Thou hast answered 
well, and thou wilt live to be a good man and true.’ Then he 
made Hauskuld the offer to take him for his foster-son, and the 
youth was glad thereat and went home with him to Bergthors- 
knoll. There he abode, and grew up with Njal and his sons, 
much beloved of them all, for he was exceeding comely and 
withal blithe and gentle and fair-spoken. 

Now Hauskuld set his mind upon a maiden named Hildegunna, 
one of the fairest of women, but very proud and hard-hearted. 
She dwelt with her uncle Flosi. And being desired of Hauskuld 
to ask this maiden for him to wife, Njal came to Flosi and offered 
to lay down such money as he should deem fitting to make the 
match on behalf of his foster-son. Then Hildegunna being called 
in, said, ‘ Who is this man that he should think to wed with me? 
I will only wed with one who has the priesthood and who is a 
leader among men.’ Wherefore Njal besought Flosi to let his 
niece tarry three winters for Hauskuld, the while they tried to 
get him a priesthood. And Flosi made that bargain. 

All that winter Njal tried to get a priesthood and a leadership 
for his foster-son, but no man was found willing to sell his priest¬ 
hood. Howbeit, when the Althing came on, it chanced that there 
was a great deal of talk about the four Quarter Courts being too 
few to settle the multitude of suits which were brought. So it 
fell out that a fifth court was named, and new priesthoods being 
set up Njal got the one at White-ness for Hauskuld, who was 
thenceforward called the Priest of White-ness. After that, Hilde¬ 
gunna was reconciled to a marriage with Hauskuld; so they were 


492 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 

wed and set up housekeeping at Ossaby. And there was the 
greatest of friendship between Hauskuld and Njal and all his 
sons. They bade each other to the harvest-feasts, and gave gifts to 
one another, and Njal’s sons Were always in Hauskuld’s company. 

Then came the change of faith, for King Olaf, being come to 
the throne of Norway, sent out men to christen the western isles. 
They preached the faith with spear and sword. Many repented 
at the spear point; some died in their sins, and some were saved; 
but most believed. In Iceland, where the people held so much 
by Njal, men came and asked his counsel, saying that it was a 
strange and a wicked thing to shake olf the old faith in the gods. 
But Njal went away by himself and mused, and when he had 
long pondered he said, ‘ The flower is better than the seed, the 
fruit than the flower. Happy is he who knoweth that the flower 
is from the seed and who looketh for the fruit. You cannot 
hinder the new faith; but if you are wise you will help it, as I 
shall. What will be, will be.’ 

Now the court whereof Hauskuld was priest took in part of 
the district which had beforetime been in Mord’s priesthood ; 
and Mord was sore vexed at finding men continually declare 
themselves out of his Thing, and go over to Hauskuld's Thing; 
for which cause he began to bear ill-will against Hauskuld the 
Priest of White-ness. About the same time, Mord’s father fell 
sick from old age, and being brought to his death-bed he said 
to his son, ‘The money I leave thee is nothing to what 
it ought to be. We have scraped and saved in vain; for Skarp- 
hedinn impoverished us when he made us pay that heavy price 
for thy share in Gunnar’s death. How he robbed us! 0 my 

son, remember this against him evermore. Let him smart for 
it, and I shall die in peace. Make friends with Njal and his 
sons, and so learn how best to wreak thy vengeance on them all. 
Promise me. They have got our gold.’ Mord said, ‘ I promise. 
Leave that to me. But now, father, since thou art nigh to death, 
I would that thou shouldest repent, and shake off the old faith 
and- take the new.’ Then he brought to his father crosses and 
many other holy tokens and set them before his eyes. Valgard 
lifted himself fiercely in his bed, caught up the crosses in his 
hands and brake them to pieces, saying, ‘ I abide by the old faith, 
and I die and curse the thief which stole my gold.’ So he 
breathed his last breath. 

Then Mord began to devise how to be avenged at once on 
Hauskuld the Priest for coming into his district, and on Njal’s 
sons; and the better to set them by the ears he made friends 


493 


Btirnt Njal. 

with both. He bade Njal’s sons and Kari to a feast, and when 
the feast was over he gave gifts to each, but the gift of greatest 
price he gave to Skarp-hedinn—a brooch of gold. Njal saw the 
gifts and said to his sons, ‘ Take heed ; for they will be bought 
full dear. But most of all, beware how ye repay the giver in 
the coin he wishes to get.’ 

Then came Mord to Hauskuld, aiying, ‘ TSIuch it grieveth me 
to lay aught to the charge of an}- man, but I warn thee against 
Kjal’s sons, and most of all against Skarp-hedinn, for thou 
trustest him, the while his heart is not right concerning thee. 
He envies thee the priesthood. Knowest thou that he took it 
up for his own when thou earnest not to the last Thing 1 He 
will never let it go.’ ‘ Nay, Mord, thou art wrong,’ said Haus¬ 
kuld, ‘for he gave it back to me at harvest-time.’ ‘Then Njal 
must have made him do it,’ said Mord; ‘ for this I know, that 
Skarp-hedinn meaneth thee mischief. Hast thou forgotten his 
treachery when ye twain went together towards Marfleet; how 
an axe fell out from under Skarp-hedinn’s belt?’ Hauskuld 
answered, ‘ What of it? Was it not his woodman’s axe ? Spare 
thy words; for I have no mind to hear slanders against Njal’s 
sons. They are my friends, and I would rather die at their hands 
than doubt them. But thou art all the worse man in my esteem 
for speaking thus concerning them.’ 

Then Mord went his way to Njal’s sons, and said, ‘ What a 
double-faced man is Hauskuld ! Who would believe it of one so 
fair-spoken! Yet he is always talking ill of you behind your 
backs. He says that Skarp-hedinn dealt treacherously by him, 
because forsooth a wood-axe fell from his belt on the way to 
Marfleet. Little do you know the man. Last time you feasted 
with Hauskuld do you remember where you slept ?’ ‘Aye,’ said 
Skarp-hedinn ; ‘ the beds were made in three outhouses, because 
Hauskuld had-pulled down his hall that he might build it anew.’ 
‘ True,’ said Mord, ‘ but round about the outhouse wherein ye 
slept Hauskuld piled up faggots, and would have burned you all 
in your beds; but Hogni, Gunnar’s son, came in the night and 
Hauskuld was afraid of him. And after ye were gone your ways 
Hauskuld sent out a band of men to fall upon you, only their 
courage failed them.’ At first Njal’s sons believed not his words 
—the tale perchance had too much circumstance—but day by 
day as Mord grew vaguer in his slanders, throwing out dark 
hints of treachery and ill-faith, the brothers doubted, and a 
coldness sprang up betwixt them and Hauskuld. Then Mord 
fed their misgivings so guilefully that in Hauskuld’s sadness at 
their alteied behaviour they only read his guilt. 


494 Popular Ro 7 nances of the Middle Ages, 

Flosi came and abode awhile with Hauskuld, and hearing from 
his niece Hildegunna how things went with him and NjaFs sons, 
he said, ‘ Get thee up and leave this part, and I will give thee 
a homestead away in Skaptarfelh’ But Hauskuld said, ‘Nay, 
wherefore should I flee 1 I have naught but kindness in my 
heart towards Njal’s sons. Something unknown to me hath 
estranged us. They will presently learn the truth, and love me 
the better for never losing faith in them.’ Then, seeing that he 
could not turn Hauskuld from his resolve, Flosi gave him a richly 
broidered cloak of scarlet and rode away. Hauskuld was greatly 
beloved of men, and he had no foes that he knew of save Njal’s 
sons, whereat he grieved heavily. 

One spring day at the seedtime of the corn, Bergthora heard 
Kari and her sons talking eagerly outside the house porch, and 
she said to her husband, ‘What are they planning now V Njal 
answered, ‘ I cannot tell; I am not in their counsels; but when 
their plans are good they seldom withhold them from me.’ 

That night Njal’s sons went not to their beds. They took 
their weapons and coming out softly from the house met Mord 
at a trysting-place which they had appointed. Mord stirred them 
up to fall upon Hauskuld at once lest he should be beforehand 
with them; and they agreed amongst themselves that all should 
give him a wound and thereby set their hands to the slaying. 

Now Hauskuld had risen up in the early morning. The sun 
was shining blithely, and he put on the scarlet cloak, Flosi’s gift, 
and taking his corn sieve went into the fields to sow the corn. 
Njal’s sons, together with Mord and Kari, lay in wait for him 
behind a fence, and when Hauskuld drew nigh the hedgerow, 
singing as he scattered his corn, Skarp-hedinn leapt out on him. 
Hauskuld saw him and sought to turn away. But Skarp-hedinn 
ran up to him, saying, ‘ Wouldst thou seek to slink away, thou 
sneaking Priest of Wliite-ness B and straightway hewed at him. 
The blow smote Hauskuld on the head; he fell upon his knees 
and spake these words: ‘God forgive thee, Skarp-hedinn my 
friend, as I do !’ And before he could say more the rest ran in, 
and all gave him wounds so that he died. Then Skarp-hedinn 
said, ‘ His blood is on all our hands.’ Mord answered, ‘ That is 
true enough; nevertheless, I will fare home straightway and 
make as though I first heard the tidings from other folk, since by 
so doing I shall the better spy out how this slaying may be 
atoned.’ ‘ Do as thou wilt,’ said Skarp-hedinn, ‘ but forget not 
that we all had a share in this man’s blood.’ 

Then the brothers went home to their father and told what 


495 


Burnt NjaL 

they had done. And straightway there fell a great hea'/iness 
upon Njal, insomuch that he bowed himself and wept and groaned 
aloud. He said, ‘ Better have lost two of my sons so Hauskuld 
were yet alive.’ Skarp-hedinn answered, ‘ Thou art an old man; 
who shall blame thee for thy bitterness 1 For I know that thou 
lovedst Hauskuld passing well.’ ‘ Nay,’ said Njal, ‘ it is not that. 
In sooth I am old, and I loved Hauskuld well ; but most of all 
1 grieve foreseeing what shall come of it. All my life long I have 
gone in dread of a day like this. And now I know that a horrible 
(leath is surely at hand for me and my wife and all my sons.’ 
Then said Kari, ‘Hast thou naught to foretell for me]’ Njal 
answered, ‘ Thy good luck is so great that it will be hard for any 
ill-fortune to overcome it.’ 

It was late that morning when Hildegunna awoke. ‘ She had 
dreamed ill dreams, and when she missed her lord from her side 
she sprang out of bed and called aloud to her servants, saying, 

‘ Go search for Hauskuld ; for evil is nigh him, or perchance has 
already overtaken him.’ In haste she dressed herself and came 
down into the hall. And when she was come down, lo, there was 
something lying on the threshold wrapped in a broidered scarlet 
cloak. Hildegunna wept not; she was very calm. Mord’s 
shepherd was by the porch, and seeing her, he came in and said, 
‘Mord bade me say that Njal’s sons did this deed; in sooth 
many folk already have heard them boast of it.’ ‘ A manly deed,’ 
said Hildegunna, ‘if one hand had done it.’ She knelt and un¬ 
wrapped her husband’s body from the cloak. Her face grew 
dark and frowning ; she never kissed the dead man’s cheek ; no 
tear of hers fell on his wounds. She took the scarlet cloak and 
wrapped it together, with the clots of blood yet in it; then laid 
it up in her chest. 

The dead man’s mother looked about for one to take up the 
suit for the slaying of her son. She fixed on Mord ; would hear 
of none but Mord. Hildegunna demurred not; and Mord, fi*ign- 
ing reluctance, at last consented. Then Mord brought neiglibours 
with him and showed the body of Hauskuld wherein were five 
wounds. He named Skarp-hedinn, Grim, Helgi, and Kari as 
the dealers of four of the wounds, but of the fifth wound said he 
nothing, save that Skarp-hedinn had given the death-blow. 

Men spoke ill of this slaying on all hands, calling it a foul deed 
and wrought without excuse, because Hauskuld had been gentle 
in his bearing and had made himself beloved of all folk. So it 
came to pass when Njal’s sons went to and fro about the land 
seeking men to help them in the suit, that even their friends 


496 Popular^ Romances of the Middle Ages. 

looked coldly on them or promised at most to hold aloof. Never¬ 
theless because of Njal and the great esteem wherein he was held 
there were yet found staunch folk to stand by him. 

It was said that Hildegunna recked little of the slaying of her 
husband. She laid him in the earth and none heard her bewail, 
and after that she busied herself about house-tending and spake 
but little. But it chanced one day that her uncle Flosi journeyed 
to the homestead, and Hildegunna set him in her husband’s seat 
and cumbered herself greatly to serve him. And it came to pass 
when Flosi had eaten his full, that Hildegunna arose, and going' 
into the midst of the hall, loosed her hair about her face and 
brake out a-weeping. Flosi lounged upon the bench and said, 

‘ Thou weepest for a good husband; but I shall follow up the 
suit, and I dare say we shall get an ample atonement in money 
for such a man.’ Hildegunna turned on him fierecly, saying, 

‘ Money ? Suits 1 Talk not of such things. I will have blood.’ 
Then she rah to her chest, and taking out the cloak, blood and 
all, as she had stripped it off Hauskuld’s body, she came softly to 
Flosi while he dozed after meat, and flung it over his head, so 
that the clots of gore rattled down all about him. ‘ This was 
thy gift,’ she cried, ‘ to Hauskuld; and now I give it back, 
charging thee before God to take vengeance for every wound 
which his dead body bare, or else to be adjudged a dastard ever¬ 
more.’ Flosi flung the cloak away. ‘ Thou grim hell-hag,’ he 
cried; ‘ cruel are the counsels of women.’ And Flosi came over 
by turns blood-red and ashen pale. 

On a set day at the Thing men gathered to the Hill of Law 
from all parts in great multitudes to hear the suit of Mord and 
Flosi against Njal’s sons for the slaying of the Priest of White¬ 
ness. Folks said, ‘Who is that tall, spare man,, pale, sharp- 
visaged, with a face as rough as a sea-crag, who shows his front 
teeth and carries a great axe across his shoulder?’ Others 
answered, ‘That is Skarp-hedinn; he goes about among the 
booths seeking for some to stand by him in the suit.’ 

Men tried hard for Njal’s sake to ])ring about an atonement, 
but Flosi was steadfast and would abide by nothing but the 
law. 

Now the court being opened, Mord and Flosi set forth the 
indictment and called on NjM’s sons to challenge the inquest. 
Then arose Thorhall the Lawman on their behalf, who said, 
‘ This suit must needs fall to the ground inasmuch as it is brought 
by a man whose hands are not clean. At the showing of the 
death-wounds Mord only named the smiters of four of them. 


497 


Bii7^nt Njal. 

But on Hauskuld’s body were five wounds ; and I hereby impeach 
Mord as the giver of the fifth, whereby he made himself an out¬ 
law, and as such is debarred from bringing this suit.’ Then Njal 
stood up and said, ‘ It seems to me that according to law this 
suit must come to naught; but yet I would not have it ended by 
a quibble which will only increase the rancour between us. 
Truly Hauskuld was dearer to me than my own sons; and when 
I knew that he was slain the sweetest light of my eyes was 
quenched. I have grieved for him more bitterly than you all. 
And now I pray his kindred by our common grief that they will 
suffer me to make atonement. I pray Flosi that he will choose 
out men to utter an award. And let it be a liberal one, for I 
deem no price too great for one so dear as Hauskuld was to me ; 
nor will I murmur though it cost me all whereof I am .possessed 
and leave me destitute in my age.’ Then many of the chief men 
interceded with Flosi, promising him their friendship if he would 
take an atonement. And after they had urged him long, Flosi 
consented that six men named on either side should utter an 
award ; and all the folk at the Thing were glad thereat. 

So twelve of the best men were left alone in the court to con¬ 
sider an award, and when they had determined what it should 
be, a bell was rung and all the people flocked to the Hill of 
Laws to hear Snorri the priest deliver the award on behalf of 
the twelve. He said, ‘We have sought in this matter to fix the 
terms of a lasting peace, for which cause we have not awarded 
outlawry either from the district or from the land, seeing that 
banishments are for the most part ill-fulfilled and oftentimes 
kindle strife afresh. We award instead a money price greater 
than has heretqfore been paid for any man. Hauskuld shall be 
atoned with triple man-fines, which will be six hundreds in silver; 
and the money must be all paid up here at the Thing. But of 
this price, lest bitterness should arise because of its greatness, we 
the awarders will pay one half, and we pray that each man of 
you will give something, for God’s sake, and so for ever end the 
feud.’ 

Njal thanked the judges for this award, but Skarp-hedinn 
laughed scornfully and held his peace. Then the awarders laid 
down their three hundreds in silver; Njal and his sons and Kari 
mustered two hundreds between them, which was all they had; 
and the people gave so liberally that at last all the money was 
laid down in a heap. And Njal took off a rich silken scarf which 
he wore and laid that on the top of the heap. 

Presently Flosi came up to count the money, and seeing the 

2 I 


49 S Poptclar Romances of the Middle Ages, 

scarf took it up and waved it about bis bead, crying aloud, ^ Who 
gave this thing V And when none spake he waved it again, and 
laughed, saying, ^Can no one tell who gave this mgV Then 
Skarp-hedinn said, ‘Who dost thou think has given itT Flosi 
answered, ‘ Sooth to say I know of none that would own such 
women’s gear save thy father the-Beardless Carle, for it is hard 
to tell whether he be man or woman.’ At that Skarp-hedinn’s 
pale face flushed red, and he cried, ‘ Thou mayest soon learn that 
my father is a man, in that he has sons who can guard him from 
affront. But the reviler of an old man is neither man nor woman; 
wherefore I counsel thee to wear these, and hide thy shame ’— 
therewith Skarp-hedinn flung a pair of breeches to him. Then 
Flosi waxed very wroth, and kicked the heap of money over, 
vowing he would not touch a penny of it, neither would he any 
longer make peace, but said he would have vengeance for Haus- 
kuld instead. So the money was handed over to Gizur the 
White to take charge of, and the Thing broke up in confusion. 
Njal was very heavy at heart because the peace-making had thus 
been spoiled, and he said to Skarp-hedinn, ‘ It has all come to 
pass as I feared; for I foresaw from the first that evil would 
follow this suit.’ Skarp-hedinn answered, ‘There is naught to 
fear, for we are not outlawed, and they cannot pursue us by law.’ 
Njal said, ‘ The worst that can happen to us is nigh at hand.’ 

Now Flosi rode away from the Thing and gathered men 
together, one hundred and twenty in all. He took an oath from 
every man to stand by him in the quarrel till the destruction of 
Njal and his sons should be accomplished; and when they had 
all pledged themselves with shaken hands they took counsel how 
best to bring it about. 

One evening at the homestead of Bergthors-knoll Bergthora 
had an ill-foreboding, and she spake to her household, ‘ Choose 
now each of you what meat he likes best, for this is the last meal 
I shall ever set before you.’ They smiled and said, ‘ This shall 
not be so.’ 

Now Grim and Helgi had gone that day to Holar, there to 
abide for a week, and Bergthora answered her household, saying, 
‘ It shall be even as I have told you; and I give you this for a 
token, that Grim and Helgi will come home before the ineal is 
done. If this come true, the rest will surely happen.’ And 
when she had set the meat out on the board Njal suddenly said, 
‘Things have a wondrous seeming in my eyes to-night. I seem 
to see out into the home-field as though the gable wall of the 
house were down. And the board, with all the meat upon it, 


499 


Bu7^7it NjaL 

seems one gore of blood.’ Skarp-hedinn frowned, and spake 
about old age, and the enfeebling of the mind. But before the 
tables were cleared Grim and Hel^ came home; and the house- 
folk whispered together and took it for a sign. Njal asked his 
sons why they came so soon. They said they could not tell— 
they had seen men riding hither and thither, and the whole 
country side seemed faring abroad—they knew not what it meant, 
and thought it better to be where Skarp-hedinn was. 

That night from a vague foreboding none went to bed. Njal 
and his sons, with Kari and nearly thirty serving-men, stood out 
upon the threshold of the door and watched, till in the glooming 
twilight they saw men steal forth here and there and gather 
together into a mighty band. Njal saw them halt to hold counsel, 
and he said to Skarp-hedinn, ‘ They are far too many fortis to deal 
with; wherefore it is my will that we all go indoors, for the 
house is strong. Eemember how hard it was found to master 
Gunnar of Lithend though he was alone in his house. There are 
quite enough of us to keep them at bay if we remain within 
walls.’ ‘ Nay,’ said Skarp-hedinn, ‘ Gunnar, it is true, held out 
bravely, but that was .because those chiefs who attacked him 
were too noble-minded to burn him in the house. But these men 
will stick at nothing. Nor do I blame them, for they know full 
well it will be their deaths if we escape. But as for me I have 
no mind to be stifled to death indoors.’ Then Njal spake queru¬ 
lously, ‘ My sons are ever setting at naught my counsel, now that 
I am old. They did not always so.’ So Helgi said, ‘ Let us do 
as our father wills.’ ‘ Well,’ said Skarp-hedinn, ‘ I for one am 
not afraid of death, and if ye are all agreed to humour our 
father by being burnt indoors along with him, I will not say 
»ay.’ 

So they made fast the doors; and immediately afterwards 
Flosi and his men came thronging about the house. Then Skarp- 
hedinn and his brothers hurled out spears and wounded many 
men. One of Flosi’s band, named Hroald, spied Skarp-hedinn at 
a window, and climbing up thrust a spear in at him, but Skarp- 
hedinn hewed off the spear-head, and the second blow of the axe 
smashed through Hroald’s shield and into his face and beat him 
backwards, dead. 

Flosi’s men suffered greatly from the darts hurled out upon 
them, and seeing that they could do nothing in return, because 
the house was so stoutly built, Flosi said to his fellows, ‘ It is 
clear that we cannot get at them with weapons, and there remain 
but two choices for us. One is to turn away; and that is not 


500 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

to be thought of since Njal’s sons will certainly be avenged on us 
all for what we have done already. The other is to burn them 
in the house; and though that is a dreadful deed which we shall 
all have to answer for before God, it must be done.^ 

Then they brought wood and piled it round about the house, 
and set fire thereto, while Skarp-hedinn mocked them from the 
windows, saying, ‘ What, you scullions ! are you going to take to 
cooking % ’ ‘ Aye,’ answered one of them, ‘ and we shall give you 

little cause to complain of being under-done.’ Skarp-hedinn 
looked at the man who said this and saw it was Grani, Gunnar’s 
son. ‘ Grani,’ he said, * I avenged thy father; and this is my 
reward. God help thee; thou art a thankless fellow.’ 

Now the wood was green, and as fast as it was kindled the 
women within the house put it out by pouring down water and 
slops thereon. But hard by was a vetch stack, and Flosi’s men 
fetched the dry fodder and filled the loft that was over the cross- 
trees of the hall therewith and set fire to it. And the inmates 
knew not of this till the hall was blazing overhead. At the same 
time piles of the vetches were kindled before all the doors until 
the wood took fire and began to burn fiercely. Then the 
women-folk within doors fell to bewailing themselves and weep¬ 
ing pitifully. But Njal comforted them, saying, ‘ Be of good 
cheer, for this is the last pain you shall ever have to endure.’ 

In a little while the whole house being kindled, Njal looked 
out of a window and calling to Flosi to come near, said, ‘ Wilt 
thou take atonement for my sons, or allow them to go out!’ 
Flosi answered, ‘ I will take no atonement for them, but here I 
will remain until they are all dead. Nevertheless the women and 
the house-carles may come out.’ 

Then Njal called together the women and the serving-men and 
all who had leave to go. Thorhalla, Helgi’s wife, trept bitterly 
at parting from her husband; and first would go, and then would 
die with him, then wept anew. But some of the other women 
persuaded Helgi to let them disguise him in a woman’s cloak 
and kerchief; and being intreated very sore of his wife he yielded. 
So they came out, Helgi going in the midst of the women. But 
Flosi watched the door and cried to his men, ‘A tall woman 
passed me, very broad across the shoulders; she is yonder; hold 
her.’ Then Helgi flung away his cloak, and drew his sword. The 
first man that laid hands on him he cut down, but others ran in 
upon him, and Flosi came up and hewed off his head. 

Then Flosi came back to the house and called for Njal and 
Bergthora. And when they were come to the window he said, 


Bupit Njal. 501 

*Njal, thou art an old man, and I would not burn thee indoors. 
Thou shalt pass out free.’ 

Njal answered, ‘ I am too old to avenge my sons upon thee, but 
I could not live in shame. I will stay with them.’ Then Flosi 
said to Bergthora, ‘ Do thou come out; for 1 would not have it 
on my soul that I burned a woman alive.’ And he intreated her. 
But Bergthora said to him, ‘ I was very young when I was given 
to Njal, and then I promised him that nothing should ever part 
us twain. We have lived long together and nothing has parted 
us, nor ever shall.’ 

So they went back together, hand in hand, into the house. 
And Bergthora laid her head against Njal’s shoulder and said, 

‘ Husband, what shall we do ] ’ He kissed her tenderly and 
answered, ‘ It is bed-time, dear one. It is time to rest.’ So he 
led her to their chamber. A little boy, Kari’s youngest son, was 
lying in their bed, and Bergthora went to lift him up to take him 
to another room; for she said to Njal, ‘ We cannot see the boy 
die before our eyes.’ But the child said, ‘ Grandmother, I 
have always slept with you, and I would rather die with you and 
Njal than live afterwards.’ 

Then they laid them down in the bed and took the boy between 
them ; and having signed themselves and the child with the cross, 
and committed their souls into God’s hands, Njal called to his 
house-steward, who had not yet gone out, saying, ‘Mark well how 
we lie, so that thou mayest afterwards be able to tell where to 
look for our bones j for we shall not stir hence for any pain or 
smart of burning. And now take yonder ox-hide from the wall 
and cover us therewith.’ The steward took the hide, which came 
off an ox but newly killed, and having spread it over them, went 
out. That was the last that was seen or heard of Njal and 
Bergthora alive. Skarp-hedinn, when he knew from the steward 
how his father had laid himself down, said to his brother Grim, 
‘ Our father goes early to bed. What wonder ? He is an old 
man.’ 

Then Skarp-hedinn and Kari and Grim began to tear down the 
blazing timbers and to hurl out firebrands upon Flosi and his 
men. These cast spears at them, but the brothers caught the 
spears in their hands and fiung them back again, till Flosi said, 
‘ Forbear ! the fire will overcome them fast enough.’ 

The heat grew stifling and the fire-forks crossed within the 
hall. All overhead was a fierce roaring sheet of flame, and ever 
and anon the great roof-beams came crashing down on fire, en¬ 
cumbering the nlace with blazing ruins. Skarp-hedinn said, 


502 Popular Romances of the Middle A^es, 

^ Father must have died easily, for we have heard neither groan 
nor sigh from him.’ Kari and Skarp-hedinn were by a window 
on the leeward side to get the air; and Kari said, ‘ Let us leap 
out here; the smoke blowing hitherward may give us a chance 
to get away unseen.’ Skarp-hedinn answered, ‘ Do thou leap out 
first, and perchance if thou gettest off safe I will follow thee. If 
not, thou wilt avenge me.’ Kari said, ‘In sooth I will;’ and 
snatching up a blazing bench, hurled it down among those who 
stood outside. These ran away, and Kari leapt out and crept 
along in the track of the smoke. But his hair and clothes were 
on fire, and some of the men seeing something pass, cried, ‘ Was 
not that a man leapt out at the roof ? ’ ‘ Nay,’ answered another, 

‘ but much more likely a firebrand that Skarp-hedinn hurled at 
us.’ So Kari got off safely and came to a stream wherein he 
threw himself to quench the fire that was on him. 

Now Skarp-hedinn made a trial to get to the window to leap 
out, but the charred beams whereon he stood brake under him 
and threw him back on the fiery ruins. He got up, and leapt up 
to the window with a run, but the wall-plate came down with his 
weight and fell on him within the house. And after this the fire 
became so fierce upon the walls that there was no more getting 
nigh them. Then Skarp-hedinn and his brother Grim held one 
another by the hand and went about treading the fire ; but when 
they came into the midst of the hall Grim fell down dead. Skarp- 
hedinn heard a shattering of the timbers overhead and ran to the 
end of the house. But the roof fell in with a mighty noise and 
jammed him fast against the gable so that he could neither move 
hand nor foot. For a moment the fallen roof choked the flames; 
the crackling sparks went up in clouds ; then huge rolling billows 
of smoke belched up into the sky, and there broke out a-blaze. 
Loud roared the flames and all the place was wrapped in fire. But 
between whiles, as the flame-noise lulled, a man’s voice was heard 
singing in the midst of the fire; and they which heard it mar¬ 
velled greatly, for they thought Skarp-hedinn had been dead long 
before. They heard the voice for near a hour; then it ceased, and 
there was no sound but the crackling of the wood, the noise of 
falling timbers, and the uproar of the fire. 

When the fire began to burn low there were some of Flosi’s 
men who broke out rejoicing; but Flosi was sad and rebuked 
them, saying, ‘ Hold your peace. We must find something better 
to boast of than burning an old man in his house. And now I 
know of a truth that vengeance will be taken for this deed ; 
wherefore it is my counsel that none of you go to your homes. 


503 


Burnt Njal, 

Not a man of us must part from the other henceforth, but do you 
all ride east with me.’ So Flosi gathered together stores and 
provisions without stint, and all the Burners rode east with him 
to his homestead at Swinefell. 

Now Kari came to Mord and told how he had escaped from 
the fire; and Mord having now seen his vengeance accomplished, 
and knowing that the people would be stirred up to anger against 
the Burners, gladly espoused his cause and promised him help. 
Then they got men together and came, to Bcrgthors-knoll to search 
for Njal’s bones. Kari showed them the spot, and when they 
had digged through a ^eat heap of ashes they came upon the ox¬ 
hide charred and shrivelled. The hide was lifted, and lo, the 
bodies of Njal and Bergthora were bright and fair, and scarce the 
smell of fire had passed upon them. They lay as though they 
slept, and smiled in their sleep; and the child in like manner, 
save that one of his fingers was burnt where he had stretched it 
forth from beneath the ox-hide. Then the men sought for Skarp- 
hedinn in the place whence the sound of the singing had come. 
And they found his body betwixt the roof and the gable. He 
was jammed in upright, his legs burnt off to the knees; he had 
bitten through his under lip with the pain; his eyes were open, 
but proud and calm in their aspect. He had driven his axe up 
to the haft in the gable wall that the blade might not be softened. 
Over his breast he had laid his hands in a cross, and the fire had 
branded the crossed hands on his body. Men had no dread of 
Skarp-hedinn when they beheld him, but all said it was good to 
be near such a dead body. They found Grim’s bones in the 
midst of the hall, and in other places the bones of four serving- 
men ; in all nine souls. 

When they had buried the dead, Mord began to take up suits 
on behalf of Njal’s kinsmen against Flosi and the rest of the 
Burners. And first he summoned nine thanes who were Njal’s 
neighbours on an inquest of outlawry against Flosi for the killing 
of Helgi. But a cunning lawyer named Eyjolf took up Flosi’s 
cause. And when he had looked into the old statutes Eyjolf 
challenged four of the thanes on the ground that two of them by 
baptismal kinship with Mord were debarred from serving on the 
inquest; and other two, because instead of being separate house¬ 
holders they had only one hearth in common. Mord answered 
that, even if baptismal kinship were a hindrance like blood 
kindred, it went for nothing, he not being the real plantiff but 
only the pleader of the suit; and that the householder statute 
was annulled by the later law which laid down that a man may 
sit on an inquest who is worth three hundreds in land and dairy 


504 Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. 

stock. But the Speaker of the Law adjudged that kinship with 
the pleader was unlawful, inasmuch as the pleader was for the 
time being the real plantiflf; and he also laid down that the old 
statute as to separate householding was not set aside but only 
added to by the newer law concerning money qualification. So 
it fell to the five thanes only to give judgment, and they found 
Flosi guilty. But their finding came to naught, for Eyjolf showed 
that the suit ought to have been brought in the Northlanders’ 
Court instead of the Eastfirthers’, and he therefore uttered protest 
against the judges giving judgment. And other suits being 
brought on for the Burning, Eyjolf brought every trick and quibble 
of law to bear on Flosi’s behalf, so that these also fell to the 
ground. Yet still new suits went dragging on from court to 
court on different issues, until it came to this—the great wrong 
of the Burning had long ceased to be the matter in dispute, and 
the only quibble that was wrangled over at the Althing was 
whether one of two lawyers, Mord or Eyjolf, was guilty of 
contempt of court. 

But Kari and Njal’s kinsmen got many powerful friends who 
held it shame that a great wrong unredressed should dwindle 
down to a mere squabble betwixt lawyers. And at last, wearied 
with daily waiting about the courts, they drew their swords at 
the Althing and made a great onslpught on the Burners. Then 
the Court of Laws brake up in haste. Snorri the Priest and 
Skapti Speaker of the Law threw down their parchments and 
seized bill and axe; and men were fighting all about. The 
booths were overturned and great was the tumult. Kari with 
his great two-handed sword Life-luller hewed many of the Burners 
down, and Njal’s kinsmen fought so fiercely that at last Flosi and 
his folk had to turn and flee across Axe-water. There Flosi drew 
up his men, and during a lull in the battle he began to think 
within himself of what he had brought on Njal and what he was 
bringing on the land. And he sent a messenger to Kari’s people, 
saying, ‘ I have sinned against you all; but I will make atone¬ 
ment. Choose whom you will to utter an award and I will 
abide by it. Only let not the land be divided against itself for 
my fault.’ 

So the matter was left to twelve chief men, and Snorri the 
Priest delivered their award. Triple fines were to be paid for 
Njal, and double fines for Bergthora and Grim and Helgi. Skarp- 
hedinn’s death was to be set over against that of Hauskuld, Priest 
of White-ness j and single fines were awarded for all others which 
had been burnt in the house. The Burners were all to go away 


Burfit NjaL 505 

into banishment or be proclaimed outlaws, and Flosi was besides 
to make a pilgrimage to Rome. 

Flosi heard the award and was content; nor would he so much 
as put a price on the wounds which he had got in the affray. 

So the settlement was made, and it was well kept afterwards. 
Flosi sailed away and came to Rome, where he abode a long 
while, doing penance and getting his soul in health. As for the 
Burners, some failed to go abroad, and Kari and Njal’s kinsmen 
hunted and slew them; moreover they tracked the Burners into 
other lands and hunted them there. Of the rest some fell in far 
countries, and many more were overtaken by ill-haps on sea and 
land. 

Years afterwards, when Flosi had fulfilled the time of his 
banishment and had gotten absolution from the Pope’s own hand, 
he came back to Iceland and dwelt at his farmstead in Swinefell. 
He was waxed graver and gentler than his wont and seldom spake 
much. Kari still went about hunting the Burners, giving them 
no rest. Yet when Flosi heard of the deaths of any of them he 
would go forth peaceably, and, seeking out their bodies, would 
bestow much money on their funerals; but none ever heard him 
utter a wrathful word against Kari. Nevertheless for all this 
Kari thought that he had not taken vengeance enough. 

But it fell out once when Kari was out at sea that a storm 
drave his vessel against the rocks off SwinefelL Kari and his 
men saved nothing but their lives; and when they had swum 
ashore the storm raged wilder. Then they said one to another, 
‘ What shall we now do for food and shelter, for we are on Flosi’s 
land and have no weapons ? ’ And Kari said, * This will we do; 
we will go up to Swinefell and put Flosi’s manhood to the proof.’ 
So they went up, drenched as they were and with scarce a rag 
upon their backs, and stood at Flosi’s door. And when Flosi 
beheld Kari he knew him immediately and brought him in and 
kissed him. With his own hands he clothed him in the best 
raiment that he had. 

So Kari and Flosi were made friends, and the Burning was 
atoned. And in aftertime when Kari’s wife Helga died, he 
wedded Flosi’s niece Hildegunna, who was beforetime the wife 
of Hauskuld Priest of White-ness. 




INDEX 


Aachen, 203 et seq., 330. 

Accolon, 9,16,17 et seq. 

Achar, 231. 

^gir, 382. 

^schere, 
iEsir, 256, 375. 

Jithelred, 463. 

Aglavale, 56. 

Agnar, 256. 

Agravaine, 4, 101 et seq. 

Alberich the Dwarf, 277, 285, 298. {See 
Andvari.) 

Aldrian, 303. 

Alf, 247, 268. 

Ali, 422. 

Alice, the Fair Pilgrim, 57. 

Alisander, 57 et seq. 

Allegorical visions, 76, 77, 81, 83. 
Allegories, 74. 

Allfather, 374. 

Alory, 226. 

Alphar, 316. 

Alroy, forest of, 20. 

Al-sirat, bridge of, 11. 

Alswid, 257. 

Amaiit, 55. 

Amiraunt, 174. 

Amys of the Mountain, 171. 

-Andred, 47, 53. 

Andvari, 251, 258. See Alberich, 
Anga,ntyr, 386. 

Anglides, 57. 

Angurvadel, 381. 

Angys the Dane, 115* 

Anlaf, 175. 

Annowre, 51. 

Anseis, 203. 

Ansirus, 57. 

Antzius, 333. 

Aragiis, 177. 

Aries the cowherd, 13. 

Arnbiom, 409. 

Amor, 424. 

Arthur, birth and early years of, 2. 

-crowning of, at Rome, 24. 

— the Emperor, 23. 


Arthur the giant-slayer, 24. 

-and Guenevere, 

-imprisonment of, 16. 

-loves of, 4. 

-and Olger, 234. 

-subordination of, 7, 54, 105. 

-sword of, 2, 5,17. 

-and Tristram, 54, 60. 

-visions of, 110. 

-wedding of, 12 seq. 

Amndel, 144, 150, 160. 

Ascapard, 151, 156, 157. 

Asdis, 400, 411, 451. 

Asgard, 256, 374. 

Asmund, 400. 

Astolat, the Fair Maid of, 93 ei seq. 
Athelstan, 165. 

Athelwold, 179 et seq. 

Ath, 262. 

-the Viking, 388. 

-son of Osmund, 400. 

Aubry, 171. 

Audun, 404. 

Aurilisbrosias, 115,119. 

Avalon, or A-\^on, Vale of, 112, 234 

Bagdemaods, 15, 73, 

Baldur, 348, 374. 

Baldwin, 3, 23, 56. 

-son of Ganelon, 207. 

-son of Olger, 229. 

Baligant, 218. 

Balin and Balan, 89 et seq, 

Balmung, 277, 293. 

Ban, 4. 

Barham Down, battle of, 110. 
Barnard, 174 
Basant, 205. 

Basebora boy, the, (See Boots and 
Beggars.) 

Basil, 205. 

Bedegraine, Castle of, 4 
Bedivere, Sir, 110. 

Beggars in Mythology, 7,181. 
Bekkhild, 257. 

Bele, 373 et seq. 




5o8 


Index. 


Beliagog, 135. 

Bellerophon, 135. 

Belleus, 28, 

Bellisande, 224. 

Bendelaine, 40. 

Benoist, 230. 

Benwick, 107. 

Beowulf, 189 et seq» 

Beranger, 213. 

Berchtung of Meran, 333. 

Bergthora, 474. 

Bernard, 93. 

Bernard Brown, 186. 

Bertram, 183. 

Bessi, 409. 

Bevis of Hamtoun, 140 et seq. 

Bifrost, bridge of, 11. 

Bikki, 273. 

Biom, slain by Grettir, 407. 
Birkabeyn, 181. 

Bjorn, 382. 

Blaise,-4, 119. 

Blamor de Ganis, 45. 

Blancandrin, 202 et seq. 

Blanch eflor, 123, 164. 

Bleeding spear, thie, 90. 

Bliant, 67. 

Blddel, 308. 

Blood, the tribute of, 86. 

Boar, the, 143, 

—^ the wound of the, 67. 

Boniface, 145, 151. 

BorgMld, 245,248. 

Borre, 4, 

Bors, 4, 65, 94, 113. 

-temptation of, 82. 

Brademond, 144, 

Bradwin, 151. 

Branquemond, 233. 

Branstock, 241. 

Bredi, 240. 

Breidablick, 374. 

Brengwaine, 46 et seq., 254. 

Brennor, 46, 49. 

Broceliande, 122. 

Bruhier, 232. 

Bryant of Cornwall. 159. 

Brynhild, 255 et seq. 

-of the Nibeluugenlied, 281 et seq. 

Budli, 260, 

Burnt Njal, 474. 

Busil-tarn, 250. 

Caerleon, 3. 

Camelot, 7. 

Canados, 136. 

Canterbury, bishop of, 109,113. 
Carados, 26. 

Caraheu, 225 et seq. 


Carbonek, 77. 

Carlisle, bishop of, 106. 

Cart, knight of the, 98. 
Carteloise, 86. 

Castle Balian, 346. 

Castor, 68. 

Chapel, Perilous, 27. 

Charles the Great, 202 et seq 
Chariot, 228, 

Cheapside, Bevis in, 159. 
Clarice, 231, 236. 

Claudas, 4. 

Cloud-cloak, the, 283 et seq. 
Cnut, 432. 

Colbrand, 176, 

Colgrevance, 84, 102. 
Constantine, 23, 

Constaunce, 115. 

Corbin, the Maid of, 63. 
Corsuble, 225. 

Courtain, 228, 

Crosslet, the red, 337 


Dag, 248. 

Damas, 16. 

Dannemont, 225. 

Dankwart, 276, 283, 308. 

Darkness, snake of, 110. 

David, sword of, 86. 

De la Rowse, Duke, 40. 

Delectable Isle, the, 59. 

Devil’s dam, 196,19. 

Didier of Lombardy, 

Dietrich, 305. 

Dimilioo, 1. 

Dinadan, 53, 56 et seq. 

Disir, 253. 

Disirsaal, 380. 

Divoun, 140, 153 et seq. 

Dolorous Gard, 107. 

-stroke, 7. 

Dragon-slayers, the, 64, 152, 169, 173, 


Dragons and streams, 118. 

-of Cola and Calabria, the, 152. 

Drogo, 327. 

Drdpnir, 377. 

Dumb Maiden, the, 66, 

Durendal, 211 


Ecgtheow, 191. 

Eckefrit, 324. 

Eckewart, 301. 

Ector, 2, .52,114. 

Edgar, 156. 

Einar, 419. 

Elaine, the Fair Maid of Astolat, 93 
et seq. 

-the mother of Galahad, 64, 88. 





Index. 


509 


Elaine, the wife of Ban, 14. 
Elf-child, the, 117. 

Eliazar, 89. 

Eliot, 155-56. 

, Elizabeth, 41. 

Ellide, 382 et seq. 

Engeler of Gascoigny, 213. 
Eric of Norway, 406. 
Ermonie, 123. 

Ermyu, 143, 159. 

Ernis, 168. 

Erp, 274 . 

Ettard, 21. 

Etzel, 300, 316 et seq. 

Eve, spindles of, 86. 
Excalibur, 17, 19, 24, 111. 
Eyjolf, 504. 

'Eylinai, 246. 

Fapnib, 250. 

Faith, ship of, 86L 
Faldrun, 214. 

Faramond, 223. 

Fatal Children, 41. 

-Sisters, 20, 112, 

Felice, 162 et sea. 

Feng, 252. 

Fenrir, 375. 

Fiolnir, 252. 

Five Kings, defeat of the, 16. 
Florentin, 135. 

Florentine, 152, 172. 

Flosi, 491 et seq. 

Fortager, 115 et seq. 

-Castle of, 116. 

Frammnas, 381, 389. 

Frigga, 374, 394. 

Frithiof, 373 et seq. 

-treasures of, 881. 

-the Madnaan, 391. 

-the Beggar, 392. 

Freya, 240, 374, 394. 

Freyr, 393. 

Frute, 346. 

Gahalatine, 26. 

Gaheris, 4, 26, 104. 

Gaire, 167. 

Galagars, 15. 

Galahad, 63, 76 et seq. 

-and Lancelot, 8/. 

-son of Brennor, 46, 

--well of, 89. 

Gamelo of Metz, 323, 
Ganelon, 205 et seq. 
Ganhardin, 136 et seq. 
Ganzblick, 348. 

Gareth, 4, 28 et seq.y 104. 
Garlon, 10, 


Gaul ter, 214. 

Gawaine, et seq.y 4, 13, 20, 103 et seq.y 
107. s 

-death of, 109. 

-vow of, 72, 104. 

-wounding of, 108. 

GeAts, 191. 

Geir, 479. 

Gelfrat, 303. 

Geotfrey of Anjou, 203. 

-Abbot of St Faron de Meaux, 23d 

Geography, mythical, 3. 

Gerard, 204. 

Gerin, 204. 

Gerlinda, 354. 

Gemot, 276, 293, 

Gerwich, 325. 

Giaflaug, 266. , 

Giant-slayers, 26, 149, 

Gibich, 316 et seq. 

Gilbert, 28. 

Gimo, 324. 

Giselber, 276, 293. 

Gisli, 432. 

Giuki, 258. 

Giukings, slaughter of the, 271. 

Gizur the white, 479. 

Glam, 411. 

Glasir, 376. 

Glaumvor, 269. 

Glistening Heath, 250. 

Glorian, 223. 

Gloriande, 227. 

Godard, 181. 

Godfrey, 222 et seq, 

Godrich, 180. 

Goldborough, 179 et seq, 

Gorlois, 1. 

Gotelind, 304. 

Grail, the, 63. 

Gram, 251. 

Grander, 149. 

Grani, 261, 250. 

Grani, Gunnar’s son, 483. 

Granmar, 248. 

Green Lawns, Knight of the, 31. 
Grendel, 192 et seq. 

-mother of, 195. 

Grettir, 400 et seq. 

Griflet, 15. 

Grim, the fisherman, 182 et seq, 

-Thorhallson, 423. 

-the Outlaw, 429. 

-son of Njal, 474, 

Grimhild, 258, 268. 

Gringamore, 35. 

Gorivernajl, 127. 

Gripir, 252. 

Gudbiorg, 416. 



Index. 


510 


GudruD, 21, 258 et seg.. 268. 

-daughter of Hettel, 351 et seq. 

Guenevere, 12, 65, 97 et seq. 

-and Lancelot, 97 et seq., 112. 

-and the lion, 50. 

-dower of, 12. 

Guest, 434, 440. 

Guichard, 166. 

Guise, 21 k 
Gullrond, 266. 

Gunild, 188. 

Gunnar, 261. 

-brother of Biorn, 409, 

-of Lithend, 474. 

Gunnlaug, 458. 

Gunter, 166. 

Gunther, 276 et seq ., 294. 

•-son of Sie^ried, 290. 

-son of Gibicho, 316 et seq. 

Gurmoise, 171. 

Guttorni, 258, 265. 

Guy of Hamtoun, 140. 

-of Warwick, 162 et seq. 

-son of Bevis, 160. 

Gyrid, 419. 

Hacon, 490. 

Hadawart, 325. 

Hsering, 

Haflidi, 402. 

Hagan, 276 et seq., 291, 305. 

Hagbard, 258. 

Hagen, 321. 

-and the Griffins, 341. 

Hahnir, 251. 

Haki, 258. 

Halfdan, 249. 

Halfdan, son of Bel4, 379. 

Hallfred, 467. 

Hallgerda, 475. 

Hallgrim, 480. 

Hallmund, 432, 

Haltclere, 214, 

Ham, 387. 

Hamdir, 274. 

Hamund, 245, 

Harald, 457. 

Harald Fair-hair, 474. 

Hartmuth, 351 et seq. 

Haunter of Shady-vale, 413. 
Hauskuld, 475. 

Havelok, 181 et seq. 

Healer, 

-Isolte, or Ysonde, the, 135 et seq. 

-Lancelot, the, 28, 

Healfdene, 189. 

Heideger; 334. 

Ueirair, 257. 

Hel, 275, 375. 


Helche, 800, 317 et seq. 

Helfled, 181. 

Helfrich, 313. 

Helga, 458 e< seg. 

Helgi Hundingsbane, 41 et seq., 245, 
248. 

Helgi, son of Bele, 379. 

-the Scathe of Hadding, 249. 

-Njal’s son, 474. 

Hellawes, 28. 

Helm-Gunnar, 256. 

Helmnot, 313, 326. 

Homing, 467. 

Heorot, 190. 

Heraud of Ardennes, 297, 303, 307. 
Herb, the holy, 100. 

Herborg, 266. 

Heregard, 360 et seq. 

Hermanec, 159. 

Hermes, 

-rod of. 

Heroes, bondage of, 

-vulnerable only in one spot, 215. 

Herrich, 316. 

Hervise, 15. 

Herwig, 351 et seq. 

Hettel, 347 
Heyd, 387. 

Hialti, 442. 

Hiarandi, 409. 

Hierodouloi, 

Higelac, 191,197. 

HUda, 217 etseq., 332. 

- daughter of Hagen of Ireland, 

346 et seq. 

Hildebrand, 313. 

Hildeburg, 333, 360. 

Hildegund, 316 et seq. 

Hildegunna, 495. 

Hilding, 373 et seq. 

HindfeU, 255. 

Hjalprek, 247. 

Hjalti, 271. 

Hjarrandi, 

Hjordis, 246,250. 

Hlymd^e, 256. 

Hnikar, 252. 

Hoard, the Golden, 298, 317. 

Hodbrod, 248. 

Hoder, 376. 

Hogni, 248, 258. 

Holy Grail, the, 64, 72. 

Horant, 343. 

Horn, the magic, 34,47, 211, 213L 
Horse, enchanted, 233. 

Howel, 42 et seq. 

Hrapp, 490. 

Hreidmar, 251. 

Hi’ethel, 191,197. 





Index, 


511 


Ilrimnir, 240, 
llrothgar, 189. 

Ilrunting, 195. 

Hnit, 475 . 

Hubert, 236, 

Hugdietrich, 333 wg. 

Hugh Raven, 185. 

Huginn, 374 
Hugo, 166. 

Hunding, 248. 

Hungerd, 468. 

Hunold, 276, 

Hygelac. (See. Higelac.) 

lOERNE, 1, 

Illugi, 411 et seq. , 449. 

-the Black, 460. 

Injebjorg, 373. 

Ironside, 37. 

Isenstein, 282. 

Isolte (Ysonde) the Fair, 59, 127 et seq. 
136. 

-(Ysonde) of the White Hands, 48, 

136. 

Issland, 281. 

JOFRID, 459. 

Jokul, 403. 

Jonakr, 273. 

Jonas, 174 . 

Jormunrek, 273. 

Joseph of Arimathea, 89. 

Josian, 143, 161. 

Jotuns, 190. 

Joyous Gard, 58, 60, 103. 

Joyous Isle, 68. 

Kara, 249. 

Kari, 495. 

Karl the Great, 223. 

Karr the Old, 404. 

Kay, 2, 15, 27. 

Kehydius, 52, 63. 

Keingala, 400. 

King of Ireland, 43, 45. 

-of the Lake, 22. 

Kinkenadon, Castle of, 28, 41, 

Knight, the best in the world, 11, 17, 
63, 64, 71, 75. 

-of the Ill-shapen Coat, 49 et seq. 

-of the Red Lawns, 37. 

Knights who fail, the, 34. 

Kolskegg, 480. 

Kormak, 416, 

Kostbera, 269. 

Kriemhild, 276 et seq. 

Lady of the Lake, 6, 8,17, 93. 
Lamorak, 5, 47, 49, 51. 


Lancelot, 14. 25, 85, 97, 109. 

-healing power of, 97. 

-humiliation of, 81. 

-madness of, 64. 

-and Olger, 234. 

-and Tristram, 54. 

Lanceor, 8. 

Laurel, 41. 

Lavaine, 93, 99. 

Leodegrance. 12. 

Liebgart, 333. 

Linet, 40. 

Lionel, 25 et seq.^ 82 et seq., 105. ’ 
Liones, 33 et seq., 41. 

Ljod, 240 

Loathly Lady, 157. 

Loki, 251, 375. 

Lombard, Earl, 166. 

Lonazep, Castle of, 59. ‘ 

Loret, 168, 

Lorraine, Duke of, 170 et seq. 
Love-drink, 46, 128, 25L 
Lucan, 110, 

Ludegast, 100, 279. 

Ludeger, 100, 279. 

Ludwig, 351, 369. 

Lykanthropy, 244 
Lyngi, 246. 

Madness of Lancelot, 64. 

-of Tristram, 52, 

Mador of the Gate, 26, 92. 

Maidens, Castle of the, 75. 

Malcolm, 478. 

Malgrin, 57. 

Manassen, 19. 

Marganices, 214. 

Marhaus, 20 et seq., 44 et seq. 

Mark of Cornwall, 9, 42 et seq., 55, 134 
et seq. 

Marsilius, 202 et seq. 

Matalan Castle, 354, 371. 

Maurice of Mounclere, 155. 

Meleagros, 

Meliagrance, 97 et seq, 

Melias, 74. 

Meliodas, 41. 

Meliora, 223. 

Meliot, 28. 

Meriadok, 131. 

Merlin, 1, 117 et seq. 

Miles, 157. 

Milo, 154. 

Mimir, well of, 25, 331. 

Mistletoe, the fatal, 376. 

Modrain, 

Mombraunt, 148 
Moradin, 233. 

Morage, 142. 




512 


Index. 


Moraunt, 126. 

Mord, 478. 

Mordred, 6, 26, 101 et seq. 

-and Guenevere, 109. , 

-death of, 111. 

Morgadour, 168. 

Morgan, 123. 

-le Fay, 5, 9, 17 ei seq., 47, 53, 57. 

Morglay, 144. 

Morloise, 87. 

Morung, 346, 361, 

Moyne, 115. 

Moy^ant, 232. 

Muninn, 374. 

Mythical heroes, madness of, 49. 

-subordination of, 29 et seq. 

-temptation of, 76 e< seq. 

-names, 

Nabon, 49. 

Nacien, 82. 

Nagling, 197. 

Nanna, 13, 374. 

Nastrond, 395. 

Naymes, 205 et seq. 

Nihehing, Story of the, 133 et seq., 276 
et seq. 

Niblung, 272. 

Nicors, 191. 

Nidhoggr, 375. 

Niftheim, 395. 

Nigramous, Castle, 28. 

Nimue, 14, 51,112, 

Niniame (or Nimue), 122. 

Njal, 28, 474 et seq. 

Noise, 441. 

Norns, 321. 

Oberon, 234, 

Odenwald, 293. 

Odin, 42, 240, 249, 374. 

Olaf, Saint, 416. 

Olger the Dane, 210 et seq., 223 et seq. 
Oliver, 203 et seq. 

Ontzlake, 16, 

Onund Sjoni, 462. 

Onund Treefoot, 416. 

Onund of Mossfell, 461, 

Orkney, King of, 4, 9. 

-Queen of, 4, 38. 

Ortlieb, 302. 

Ortrun, 370 et seq., 358. 

Ortwin, 355. 

Ortwine, 276, 331. 

Osile, 170. 

Otho of Pavia, 164 et seq, 

Otkell, 477. 

Otter's skin, the, 251. 

Ovand, 225. 


Pal AMIDES, 43, 59 et seq., 70. 
Palestina, 223. 

Pandaros, 324. 

Papillon, 233. 

Pase, Earl of, 57. 

Patafrit, 325. 

Patrise, 92. 

Pellam, 10. 

Pelleas, 21 et seq, 

Pelles, 87. 

Pellinore, 6, 13. 

Pendragon Castle, 51. 

-Other, 115, 119 et seq, 

Percivale, 5, et seq. 

-sister of, 86, 

PeriloTxs Castle, the, 36. 

-chapel, the, 27. 

-pass, the, 30. 

-seat, the, 13, 63, 70. 

Perin of Montbeliard, 10, 

Persant of Inde, 32. 

Persis of the Forest, 25. 

Pescheur, 75. 

Peticrewe, 134. 

Pillars or rods, 

Pinabel, 220 et seq. 

Pinel, 92. 

Poisoned weapons, 44, 48, 127, 138. 

-robes, 20. 

Potenhithe, 159. 

Prettyhands, 29 et seq, 

Pristina, 223. 

Queen of Eastland, 25. 

-of Orkney, 4, 38, 56. 

-of the Out Isles, 26. 

-of the Waste Land, 112, 

Rafn, 461. 

Ran, 394. 

Randolf, 326. 

Randver, 273. 

Rannveig, 480. 

Raynburn, 177. 

Redbeard, 430. 

Redesoun, 144. 

Red Lawns, Knight of the, 29 et seq. 
Regin, 250. 

Regnier, 235. 

Reidmar, 251. 

Reignier, 164. 

Rerir, 240. 

Reyner of Chester, 188. 

Ring, the magic, 39 et seq., 148, 235. 

-King, 383 et seq. 

-the mystic, 251, 262. 

Ringhorne, 377. 

Robe, the poisoned, 20. 

Robert the Red, 185. 












Index. 


513 


Rohand, 123 et seq.^ 164. 

Roland, 202 et seq. 

-Rise, 123. 

Rome, Emperor of, 5, 23. 
Roncesvalles, battle of, 210 et seq. 
Rota, 394. 

Round Table, the, 12, 76, 121. 

-knights of the, 12, 73. 

Rudegcr, 304. 

Rumold, 276. 

Ryons, 6, 8 e< seq. 


Saber, 141,157. 

Sadok, 57, 167 ; (SadocX 
Sadonne, 227. 

Sails, black and white, 138. ^ 

Salgofnir, 249. 

Sam, 484. 

Sampson, 203. 

Sanam, daughter of Earl, 4 . 
Sangreal, the, 64, 72, 85. 

Sarras, city of, 87. 

Saurli, 274. 

Scabbard, the magic, 6, 17, 19. 

Scef. 189. 

Scbilbung, 277. 

Schwemmelein, 302. 

Scyld, 189. 

Segard, 162. 

Segwarides, 44, 49, 53. 

Segwin, 167. 

Sessoins, 56. 

Ship of Baldur, 377. 

-of faith, 85. 

-of the dead, 59, 90. 

Siege Perilous, the, 13, 63. 

Siegfried, son of Gunther, 288L 

-277 et seq. ' 

-the Homed, 277. 

-of the Moorland, 261, 277 €t seq. 

Sieglind, 277, 351 et seq. 

Siegmund, 277 et seq. 

Sigar, 258. 

Sigeband, 341. 

Siggeir, 241. 

Sigi, 240. 

Sigmund, 241, 476. 

Signy, 241. 

Sigmn, 248. 

Sigtrygg, 464. 

Sigurd, 250. 

-Bishop, 423. 

-of Micklegarth, 453 et seq. 

Simon, Abbot, 236. 

Sindold, 279. 

Sinfjotli, 243. 

Sisters, the fatal, 20. 

Siza, Pass of, 209 et seq. 

Skald-Torfa, 409. 


Skamkell, 477. 

Skapti, 426 et seq., 466. 
Skaramund, 324. 
Skarp-hedinn, 477. 

Skeggi. 402. 

Slaughter, Hall of, 310. 
Sleipnir, 244, 250. 

Snakes, in mythology, 147. 

-and weasels, 110. 

Snoekoll, 419. 

Snorri, 504. 

Solomon, bed of, 86. 

Sot6, 381. 

Spear, the mystic, 65, 90. 
Spes, 452 et seq. 

Spiritual place, the, 87. 
Stein, 450. 

Steinar, 462. 

Steinvor, 437. ' 

Stone, the magic, 148. 

Svein, 423. 

Sverting, 468. 

Swanborough, 181. 

Swanhild, 273. 
Swan-maidens, 303. 

Sword, the naked, 7L 

-of Balin, 7. 

-of Bevis, 144. 

-of Tristrem, 127. 

Syrak, 151. 

Taillefbr, 222. 

Tannenast, 327. 

Tedbald of Rheiins, 204. 
Terry, 146 et seq. 

Thierry, 170 et seq. 

Thiostolf, 475 . 

Thor, 393. 

Thorbiorg, 428. 

Thorbiora Oxmain, 416, 424 

-Angle, 449. 

-the Tardy, 416. 

Thord, 476. 

Thorfinn of Haramsey, 403, 
Thorgaut, 413. 

Thorgeir, 420, 423. 
Thorgerd, 459. 

Thorgils, 425. 

Thorgrim, 462. 

Thorhall, 411. 

-the Lawman, 496. 

Thorhalla, 475. 

Thorir of the Pass, 420. 

-the Berserk, 418. 

Thorkel, 401, 408, 431, 
Thormod, 425. 

Thorod, 440. 

-Drapna-stump, 427. 

Thorold, 16.5. 




514 


Index, 


Thororm, 464. 

Thorstein Dromond, 409, 452. 

-Kuggson, 432. 

Thorsten, 373 et seq, 

-Egilson, 458. 

Thrain, 491. 

Thurid, 449. 

Tierry, 220. 

Tiutagel Castle, 1, 52L 
Tjorvi,.50^ 

,or, 13 .g« seq. 

Torch of Olger, 2357 
Tramtrist, 43, 12/. 

Treasure, lost or stolen, 197. 

- the Lost, 305, 314. 

-of Fafnir, tlie, 254. 

-of. Frithiof, 381. 

Triampur, 133, 174. 
Triii^shesis, 149. 

T'-j^ram, 42 et seq., 123 et seq. 
—and Arthur, 60. 

- and Lancelot, 53. 

-and Palamides, 63. 

-banishment of, 54, 133. 

-death of, 103, 139. 

-madness of, 49, 137. 

-sculptured hall of, 136. 

-treachery of, 132. 

-the dragon-slayer, 128. 

-the harper, 43, 125. 

—the huntsman, 43, 125. 

-the stranger, 137. 

-in the Norso ship, 124. ,, 

Trolls, 378. 

Turpin, 204 et seq. 

Turquine, 26. 

'I'vvelve Peers, the, 212 et seq. 
Two Brothers, 9. 

-Swords, knight of the, 7. 

Ubbe, 185. 

Ulfin, 1. 

Urgen, 133. 

Uriens, 15, 20. 

Urre of Hungary, 101, 

Urry, 164. 

Uta, 115, 276, 280. 

-wife of Sigeband, 341. 

Uther Pendragon, 1, 115, 119. 
Uwaine, 11 ei seq. 

-les Avontres, 81. 


Valgard, 

Valhalla, 249, 375. 

Veillantif, 211. 

Yermund, 428. 

': *Vingi, 270. 

' 'Visions, allegorical, 118. 

Vivian, 222. 

Volker, 276, 279, 308. 

Volsung, 241, 245. 

WAEGMUNDma, 193. 

Walgund, 333. 

Walter of Aquitaine, 316 et seq. 
Wanderers in mythology, 6. 
Waschenstein, 325. 

Wate, 346 et seq. 

•Wayland, 381,191. 

Wealtheow, 192. 

Weapons, mythical, 2, 7, 72, 144. 

-poisoned, 44, 90, 127, 138. 

Weasel, the, 175. 

Weeping Castle, the, 46. 

Weird Sisters, 20, 112. 

Werbel. 309. 

Werinhard, 144. 

White Castle, 67. 

Wight, Isle of, 146, 157. 

Wiglaf, 199. 

William Wendut, 185. 
Windhelm, Bridge of, 250. 
Wishing Rod, the Golden, 299. 
Woden, Odin, 331. 

Wolf, the She, 243. 

Wolfbrand, 313. 

Wolfdietrich, 338. 

Wolfhart, 313. 

Wolfwine, 313. 

Wolves of Odin, 375. 

Worms in Mythology, 254. 
Wulpeusand, 361. 

Xanten, Castle of, 276. 

Yggdrasil, 326. 

Ynor, 148, 158. 

Yrolt, 346. 

Ysonde the Fair. {See laolte.; 
Yuniala, 338. 

Zaragoz, 218. 

Zio, 331. 





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